


Recovery

by gracediamondsfear



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Abduction, After TDKR, Dominance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Nolanverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1340065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bane is secreted away from Gotham after being blasted by Catwoman.  He didn't die...but he'll need help to recover.  One of his men has a sister, a doctor and chemist who lives alone, working day and night on a new long acting painkiller.  Someone has been funding her research all this time, a silent donor, who's now calling for repayment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

He wasn’t killed. 

In the madness that followed the return of the Batman, the police and the citizens flooding the streets, the drama of the bomb dropping out over the bay, no one had bothered to check.  To confirm.  And by the time anyone showed up to load his body into a black leather bag, to drag him out and hang him in effigy like he’d hung the special agents he’d killed in City Hall, he was gone. 

“He couldn’t have survived.  There’s no way,” the officers said to each other, seeing the blood on the floor, shrapnel from his armored vest, the silver tubes and black steel from his mask shattered against the marble.  One of his boots had been blown off. 

“Maybe you didn’t see that guy when he was alive.”

His crew, the ones that had hung back, behind the front lines, had taken him back underground.  Not to the sewers, but to a bunker built near the docks amongst a series of what looked like dented and rusted out shipping containers.  And while the people stood in the streets watching the buttery yellow mushroom cloud bloom over the ocean, weeping for the loss of their savior, his followers peeled away the remains of his body armor, the brace on his back and wrist, the mask that was demolished, doing no good anyway.  Underneath it he was just a man really…scarred and pale, covered in blood and angry bruises -- what looked like irreparable damage.    

His pulse was weak, his eyes rolled back in his head.  His ribs, every one of them, were broken, his lungs collapsed, and something, somewhere was filling his gut with blood. It took hours to stabilize him, to put together a sterile, mobile ICU unit in the back of a garbage truck eager to get on the streets and assist with the “rebuilding of Gotham”, but they did it. 

In those three days he uttered one word.

“No.”

***************

Slaine lived in an old lodge at the base of the Adirondack Mountains, in the foothills, not far from the lab where she was now working.  The lab she built and disguised in the middle of nowhere on the unused, unlandscaped acres of her parents' land.  And although she had a handful of employees, research assistants, an office administrator, they all had their own lives outside of their work.  And she’d become…something of a hermit in the past three years.  She had a dog.  They got along fairly well.  And that was about the end of it.

Angry with the world of grants, of begging for funding, of answering to the ‘board’ or to ‘the investors’, of working to make others money on the backs of those who suffered she devoted herself to her work.  She was put on the planet to help.  To heal.  And now, finally, she had enough money to do so. 

Her brother had made sure of it.  She didn’t know where he got the money or how, but she was long past caring and he’d instructed her with no uncertainty not to dig into the issue.  All he told her was that he worked for a man who was starting a revolution, who believed in the same things they did, to bring down the rich in order to help the poor.  His boss was interested in her research, and the benefits it held for the general population.  Other than that there would be no questions, no reporting in, no requests to pick up the pace.  Just a check and well wishes. 

“You’ll pay me back somehow,” he’d said with a smile. “Who knows, I might need your help someday.”

The investment had paid off.  Because now she was right on the edge of finalizing her painkiller for trials, a synthetic with no physically addictive properties and low abuse potential.  She’d seen enough OD’s, withdrawal and relapse in her life to last an eternity.  She never wanted to live through it again.  

************

The truck rumbled into the driveway shortly after sunrise, two other rigs behind it, a cloud of dust bringing up the rear.  She was getting ready to go to the lab, freshly showered in her pink fleece robe and slippers, her hair wrapped in a white towel, a cup of tea cooling on the kitchen counter.

Three men, her brother included, jumped from the cab of the truck and her heart started thudding against her ribs.  Two of them had guns. 

“Slaine! Come out!  Hurry!”

A stretcher was pulled from the back of the truck holding a hulking body under a dark blanket.  He was bald, deathly pale, intubated, an I.V. threaded up from his arm, with a portable heart monitor rolling beside him. 

She stood in the kitchen, frozen in place, the cup of tea swirling fragrant steam up toward her nostrils.  Orange spice.  She took a moment to remember it…this apparent last moment of peace.  Of being alone.  Something told her that this was one of those moments where everything in her life changed, where Before and After were demarcated. 

“Slaine! Open up!” Her brother Richard pounded on the front door.

Everything up until now was before.  Now it was time for her to pay her debt.

*************

Richard threw the door open as soon as she unlocked it and two men rolled the gurney into the front hallway, a cart full of monitors, beeping at having been disconnected, following right behind. Slaine recognized the unconscious man immediately, his size, his bald head, broad shoulders.  She looked at her brother whose face was like stone.

“Is dad’s room still set up?”  He asked.

She nodded and the men lifted the gurney with ease, pulling it up the stairs to her father’s bedroom.  He’d spent the last six months of his life there after having a massive stroke and still a year later she hadn’t bothered to change it. It was bare but for a cabinet filled with plastic sealed first aid supplies, syringes, bedpans. They’d had extra overhead lights and additional outlets installed across the back wall, a video monitor set up near the door along with an emergency intercom.  Standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, she frowned as the men plugged their leader back into the wall.  His heartbeat was strong, the respirator helping his chest rise and fall in an even rhythm.

“I know who he is.  I know what he did.  Everyone in the world knows.  I watched it happen.  What makes you think I would help him?”  She’d had nightmares about the masked terrorist, dreamt that he’d set her mountain on fire, the flames racing to the top leaving nothing but ashes in its wake, Bane standing unscathed amongst the blackened landscape.  She'd dreamt of him.

Richard grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the hallway, his eyes boring into hers, enraged that she’d defied him in front of his crew.

“He’s the one who made sure that you could live like this,” he hissed through his teeth.  “That you could stay here and do your work as you pleased.  He gave you the money to build that lab of yours and hole up in the mountains like a fucking hermit.” He waved his hand in the air as if it were all just a blanket fort in the living room.

She stared him down, unwilling to show how badly he was hurting her, his fingers digging into her biceps.  He’d backed her up against the wall, there was no way to get out of his grip.

“And that gives him some sort of power over me?” She whispered, her jaw set. 

“Yes.  He has it over all of us.  Trust me.”  For once his voice carried a bit of compassion, of concern for her.

“You can’t all stay here.  There isn’t room…and it would draw attention. I can’t have a garbage truck in my driveway, men with guns stalking around the property.”

“I’ll send the rest of the men away.  Lopez and I will stay with you.  And him.”

“Because you don’t trust me to keep him alive.”

“Because both of us will be dead if you don’t.”

“Then tell me about the mask.”

********

Later, while her brother slept, Slaine looked in on her patient, pulling the sheet back to examine his sutures.  His torso was bruised from collarbone to navel, blooming purple and black like a stormy horizon; his broken ribs a series of swollen lumps across his chest.  The respirator hissed as she ran her fingers over the jagged stitched lines that precariously held him together.  Yellow iodine still stained the irritated skin and she swabbed it away, just to feel like she’d done something.

Once the rest of the crew left in the trucks, leaving one rig of supplies behind, she’d gone to the lab to give the appearance of normalcy and gather herself.  There was nothing she could do for Bane at the moment but make sure he was stable and hydrated, and if she stayed away from the lab her teammates would know something had gone wrong.  Bane’s induced coma was for everyone’s benefit, to keep him unaware of the worst of his withdrawal, and the lack of pain relief for his wounds.  She told Richard what to expect while she was at work.  Muscles twitching, sweat, blood pressure spikes, sneezing.  The inhalants were powerful, but short acting.  And yet he’d used them for so long that every cell of his body held a memory of it.  If he lived through the more obvious damage, the shredded spleen, the broken bones, the loss of a kidney, the recovery from his addiction would be his greatest test.  She didn’t hold out much hope, but she kept her predictions to herself.

There were other, older scars covering his body, slashing lines from poorly treated knife wounds, rough, raised starbursts from bullets, lumps of scar tissue near his knees and ankles, and his right wrist and forearm were rippled with scar tissue, a burn or some horrible mangling injury she couldn’t tell. 

He was much less a monster lying there in only his flawed, human skin. A dark shadow of hair was starting to grow on his cheeks and chin, his lips were pale, dry and cracked from the intubation.  He was entirely vulnerable.  No mask, no body armor.  She picked up his hand and looked at the thick fingers, the veins running over the back.  He still had weapons.  

“If you live through this,” she whispered, turning his hand over to look at the lines of his palm, her mother’s fortune telling habits getting the best of her.  Everyone was a child once, her mother always said. No one starts evil. “It will be the worst pain you’ve ever lived through.  But I promise to help you, the best that I can.”

Before she could drop his hand he squeezed her fingers.  It was weak, but she was sure it was more than a reflex.  She looked up but his face was still, eyes closed, the drip from his I.V. keeping him under the surface.  She looked up at the heart monitor and saw his pulse quicken, but still he didn’t move.  He couldn’t.  But he wanted to.

It had been five days.  She knew it was time to wake him.  She just wasn’t sure she had the strength for it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Just opening his eyes brought a wave of agony; heavy, pulsing pain that surged with every heartbeat.  His throat burned, his jaw was stiff…but the mask.  It was gone. 

“What…what’s happening.  Where is it?”  His words were barely audible, just gravel and air over his dry lips and tongue.  When he tried to lift his head, he felt a cool hand against his shoulder, pushing him back down.

“Don’t try and talk…sir…Mr…Bane, sir,” a hesitant voice said. “Just come into your breath slowly…find your way back.”  It was soothing and smooth, familiar even.  It wasn’t her, but it was a woman, a woman he’d heard before.  It wasn’t _her_ , but it was comforting just the same.  He drifted back into darkness, unable to find his way back just yet.

********

The room was bright and he blinked rapidly, his eyes burning and dry, not unlike his throat that throbbed every time he swallowed.

“You were intubated.  Remember when we pulled the tube out last night?  You didn’t say much but you were awake.”

He watched her move around the white room through half closed eyes, beads of cold sweat dripping down over his temples, every muscle in his body aching with each breath.  She stood with her back to him, her hands busy with needles and vials.  He bunched the bed sheets in his fists as a wave of nausea overtook him.  He groaned.

“Think you’re gonna puke?” she asked without turning around.  She lifted a syringe and flicked it with her fingertip.

“You don’t understand. I need the mask,” he said, doing his best to hide the panic behind his words. “Give me the mask.  Unless you’re trying to kill me.”

“If I wanted to kill you I’d rip out the sutures holding your liver in.”

Finally she turned to him to inject something into the I.V.  Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy knot, strands of it coming loose and falling down to frame her face where she wore red rimmed glasses.  He couldn’t be in a hospital; the girl was wearing jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, no white jacket, no I.D. badges.  High heeled boots that clicked on the hardwood floor.  The room was silent but for the beeping of his pulse…he heard nothing outside the room, no other voices, no other activity.

“Prison,” he said, almost to himself.

“No,” she sat on the rolling stool beside his bed, but moved it back, closer to the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.  “My brother brought you here after the riot in Gotham to see if I could help you.”

“Ahhh,” he said, finally remembering where he’d heard her voice.  “The research doctor in the mountains.”

“That’s me,” she said, standing.

“Tell me your name.  Your brother never told me.”

“Not surprising.  It’s Slaine.”

“Beautiful.  A pleasure to make your acquaintance, doctor,” he said as she made her way out the door.

“Wish I could say the same,” she threw over her shoulder.

What a little spark she was.  He smiled to himself after she left.  How proud and strong she was now.  He wasn’t worried.  She’d fall soon enough.

********

He knew she was dead.  Slaine came in to change his dressings and snapped on the television while she worked.  The news reported on his failures; losing Talia, Gotham proudly rebuilding itself, the bomb detonating and taking only one victim.  That was his cold comfort.  He’d destroyed the student that no one could live up to, the warrior that no one could conquer.  The selfless hero with the world on his shoulders and the legend he never stopped hearing about.  Now both Bruce Wayne AND Batman were dead.  That would have to be enough.

“Don’t worry,” she said, taking his rising blood pressure and tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear. “You’ll kill thousands more with the fallout poisoning.”

“Are you waiting for me to cackle with glee, doctor?”

“Wasn’t that your goal?”

“Not necessarily.  Our goal doesn’t matter anymore.”  He closed his eyes and turned his face away from her.  His face itched and he raised a hand to find a sharp cover of patchy stubble on his cheeks. 

“That woman, Miranda Tate.  She was your…”

“Not Miranda.  Her name was Talia Al Ghul.  I’ve known her since she was born, held her when she wasn’t even an hour old,” he said, still running his fingers over his exposed cheeks.  He remembered Talia’s tiny pink face, wailing with her first breaths as her mother let him hold her carefully in his lap.  _She needs a guardian down here, mi Lucero._ He’d made a solemn oath that moment, touching the baby’s soft dark hair with two fingers…he’d never seen a baby.  Not in his entire life.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t…” He sighed and closed his eyes to shut the doctor's voice out. “It’s…it’s normal to experience a flood of different emotions,” she said, walking away from him.  He could hear nervousness, uncertainty in her words. “Your body is trying to create endorphins to battle the withdrawal.  You’ll experience anger, dysphoria….extreme…extreme sadness, even unexpected…aro…” she turned off the television. “Just a lot of unexpected feelings.  It’s natural.”

Still he wouldn’t look at her, and she left the room without another word.

*********

He found her late at night, in the rubble of Gotham, crumbling walls still smoking from long extinguished fires.  He saw her pale arm first, her fingers long and white.  With ease he lifted the layers of concrete off of her body, twisted the rebar and electrical wire away from her legs.  She was unconscious, but her face was at peace, her hair fanned out over the bricks, the rest of her body covered with a delicate lace of fresh blood.  He picked her up and carried her from the broken building to an abandoned parking garage, its walls covered in graffiti, floors full of cars with slashed tires and shattered windows.  When she started to stir he opened the back door of a car and let her fall back onto the black leather seat.  After a moment she moaned and stretched, her spine arching up like a bow, the skirt of the white dress she was wearing sliding up to reveal her legs up to her thighs.

“Where am I?” She said, sitting up. 

He stood before her like a living nightmare, all in black, even his eyes seemed to be inky, boring down at her from above the metallic muzzle of his mask.

“You were under a pile of concrete.  And you would have died there were it not for me,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.  She stood and he pushed her back down with one black-gloved hand, then stepped closer and leaned down, holding her jaw, forcing her to look at him, at the steel and rubber and plastic that clicked and hissed with each breath he took.  “Aren’t you going to thank me for saving your life, little fawn?” 

Without a word she nodded and fell to the ground in front of him, her bare knees on the rough cement floor as she unbuckled his heavy black belt and unbuttoned his pants.  She wasted no time pulling his hardened cock free and closing her mouth around it, sliding the entire length of his thick shaft into the back of her throat.  He grabbed a fistful of her hair to guide her movements, his animal like groans hissing through his mask as the flat velvet warmth of her tongue dragged along his length.

“Take off your dress,” he said, stepping away from her. “I want to see you.  All of you.”

She did as he asked and once she stood in front of him naked he ran his hands over her breasts, the ruby peaks of her hardened nipples.  At the touch of the cold leather she shivered and took his hand in hers, pulling it down between her legs so he could stroke her.

“Ah yes,” he said, as she pushed herself against him, her fingertips tickling over his straining erection as he sunk his fingers between her slippery wet folds. “Don’t you wish I could bury my face in that sweet little cunt?” He asked, his other hand wrapped around the back of her neck.  “You look at me like I’m a monster, but I could make you scream in ecstasy little fawn.  If you were a good girl and you begged me to.” He continued fucking her with his fingers until she pushed away.

“Please,” Slaine said, looking up at him, laying back on the cold seat of the car, her legs spread open for him, her eyes shining with lust. “I’m begging like a good girl.  I want you inside me.”

*******

He woke up in a sweat, his dick hard, throbbing from his dream.  The room was dark, blue white shafts of moonlight glowing in diamonds on the floor.  He closed his eyes again and listened to the fluttering heart monitor, trying to catch his breath.


	3. Chapter 3

His pain was worse at night, like a thousand insects crawling under his skin, his stomach roiling, filled with acid. On the seventh night, unable to sleep, he tried instead to stand. Like old rusted gears his hips and knees creaked back to life, the years of punishment he’d put them through all coming home to roost at once. Each muscle roared with pain as he brought himself to full height, putting pressure on his wounds. Gripping the I.V. pole he took his first steps in weeks, the floor cold against his bare feet. With every footfall it felt as if he were being torn open, as if the stitches wouldn’t hold, that his bones would snap and stab through his skin, but he pushed through the pain. If he was going to win he needed to be stronger than she suspected.

He could tell already that she was terrified of him. All women were.  He was a complete unknown. It was part of why the mask worked so well for him. People wondered what horrors hid beneath it, assuming the worst – mangled skin, broken, rotted teeth. Knowing he was just a man— and a weakened one at that— without his armor, took his power over her down quite a bit.  And until now, Slaine thought he relied on her for everything, that he was a mewling infant, completely at her mercy. So he walked in circles throughout the night, stretching his limbs, ignoring the way his hands trembled and the burning ache in his gut.  Focusing on the pain kept the darker thoughts at bay.

*******

She was uncomfortable when he was awake, the way his eyes followed her in a smooth, focused sweep, the questions he asked with the intention of making her uneasy, but most of all how his face had fallen when he heard of that woman Talia being buried outside Gotham. She didn’t like bearing witness to his humanity, because she knew she was weak. Too full of compassion, her brother always said, to be any kind of real success.

So she waited outside while he spoke with Richard, her ear pressed to the door. It was unusual to hear her brother so quiet, so submissive. In fact she barely heard his voice at all as Bane gave him instructions she couldn’t make out. They were going to work towards something else, some new plan detailed in hushed tones.

The door swung open and Richard came out, a black pistol tucked into the back of the waistband of his jeans.

"Why do you have your gun?" she asked, frightened just by the sight of it. She’d never fired a gun, never held one, refusing even when her father and brother insisted she needed one living out here all by herself. Now her brother looked at her incredulously.

"They’ll find us soon enough, Lamb. I’m just staying prepared."

"Is he asleep?" she asked, lowering her eyes.

"Not yet, but he’s tired. Exhausted. And in pain," he said. His voice was accusatory, bitter.

"He was hit with a rocket propelled grenade. There’s a lot of pain associated with it."

"Don’t be a smart ass, Slaine. It doesn’t suit you," he said, lightly slapping her cheek. "Fix it so he’s not uncomfortable. I thought you were the genius on these types of things. It’s the only reason we fucking came here."

He stomped down the hardwood stairs and out the front door, slamming it behind him. The sound of the truck revving to life was a weight lifting from her shoulders.

*********

She fixed herself a cup of tea before heading back inside. If his bruises and surgical wounds healed soon she could begin dosing him with her long acting painkiller. That was what kept her in control; if she saw Bane simply as a test subject and not as a man.

He was awake.

"Oh," she said, splashing a bit of tea from her cup onto her wrist. "Fuck."

He watched her suck the burnt skin between her lips to lick it then closed his eyes and smiled, as if just doing so took everything out of him.

"Orange and cinnamon," he said.

Smells were new and pungent to him, some raising memories from decades before, some making him sick to his stomach. He was even starting to feel hunger, cravings for food…things he’d never concerned himself with…not for years.

"I just…I came to check your vitals and see how your ribs are healing," she said, putting her cup on the counter. "Then I can give you something to help you sleep."

After she washed up, she pulled back the white sheet, careful to stop right at the thick ridge of muscle that formed a V at his hip bones. Her eyes were drawn to the thin line of dark hair below his navel. She made a mental note to tell Richard to get him some clothes.

"My hands may be cold," she said.

Every touch of her fingertips drew a groan or hiss from her patient. They were, of course, cries of pain, but Slaine couldn’t help thinking they sounded like something much different. She moved gently over his freshly knit bones, the healing incisions, less red and angry than the day before. Even after nearly two weeks his muscles were hard beneath his warm skin and she found herself lingering, one hand resting on his stomach as she counted the pulse in his wrist with the other. All the while she could feel him watching.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked, pulling the sheet back up to cover his chest.

"Everything is hurting me. I need my mask. It isn’t an optional accessory," he hissed through his teeth. "My whole body is a frayed nerve ending. My skin is crawling."

She nodded sympathetically and ran her hand over his forehead where his skin was damp and clammy. Along with his racing heart rate, and dilated pupils she was sure that he was going through the worst part of his withdrawals, when it felt like you could turn yourself inside out, like you had to or you’d never be able to sit still.

"You’ve made it ten days. It will be better soon. Very soon."

He grabbed her wrist so tightly she felt the blood pulsing in her finger tips.

"I’m not one of your worthless fucking charity cases. My situation happens to be rather unique."

"I know," she said, taking her free hand from her pocket and injecting the sedative into his I.V. His grip on her loosed in seconds and she peeled his fingers back. "Actually, you’re my first charity case, Mr. Bane."

***************

 

Richard sat beside the bed waiting for him to wake from his restless sleep. There was something about the stillness, the paleness, the stubble on his cheeks where a tangle of tubes and wires used to be that made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like seeing Bane reduced to this weakness…this dependence. Finally he stirred.

"Your sister. She’s a…a heartless bitch," he finally said, not looking at him.

"Slaine? You must have really insulted her somehow. Because her heart is too big, if you must know. Her nervousness comes off as boldness," Richard countered. "In truth she’s soft. Too soft."

"Women are meant to be soft," Bane said, rubbing his eyes.

"I suppose."

Bane watched the young man’s frown deepen, his dark eyes darting around the room. It was strange watching a man suffer being at peace. He was only content when he was killing somebody, or retelling the tale of how he did it.

"Compassion isn’t a fault, Farrow. It’s just a vulnerability."

Richard laughed then.

"Why do you think she lives alone in the mountains, just a dog and a lab coat to keep her company? Every thing about her is a vulnerability. She’s afraid of her own shadow."

"So are we safe here? Hidden?"

"For the moment," Richard said, nodding. "Were in a fairly remote part of New York, only one road in and out…The weather adds a bit of security. One good snowfall and we could be cut off for days."

"I mean Slaine," Bane interrupted. "She won’t turn us in?"

"My sister? Never." Richard got up and made his way to the door. Before leaving he threw Bane a wicked grin. "She’s terrified of me."

But Bane didn’t smile back.

 

***********

 

He found her bedroom in the night. The dog woke and sniffed his feet before leaving, ticking down the hardwood stairs.

"Little Lamb," he whispered, watching her sleep.

But she was awake, watching him through one half open eye, clutching her pillow as if it would protect her. Even in the dead of winter she slept in an old college t-shirt and her white cotton panties.

He stood silent at her bedside, the full moon shining blue on the curves of his muscles as he ran a finger over the exposed skin of her calf, the bone of her ankle.

"We’re all alone, Lamb. Aren’t you tired of being alone?"

Lifting the blanket he ran his calloused fingers over her hip, her stomach. Still she didn’t move.

"You think I don’t know you’re awake, girl? I can feel your muscles twitching."

He pulled back her thick comforter and climbed into the bed, crouching at her feet, his hands sliding up the outsides of her legs, bending her knees.

"It’s been so long since I’ve tasted a woman’s skin," he said, pressing his lips to the sole of her foot. "How long have you been alone?"

She woke, opened her eyes and found the room empty, her body wrapped tight in her quilt. Still, she could feel his mouth on her foot, his fingertips on her leg. Reaching down between her thighs she found herself slick with arousal and with a sigh, rolled onto her side and went back to sleep.

 

*************

 

In order to avoid talking with him, she checked his vitals at night, padding down the darkened hall in her pajamas and robe, leaving the lights off in his room. He looked peaceful, one muscular leg tangled outside the sheets, an arm folded over his chest. Touching his hand, she saw that the cannula was gone, a pinprick of blood glistening where the needle had been.

"You pulled your own —"

He was on her in a second, slamming her back against the wall, his forearm pressed to her throat, a syringe filled with air jabbed deep in her neck.

"Give me back the mask," he growled, his face just inches from hers, his eyes burning with rage.

Slaine gasped for air, the back of her skull throbbing with pain, but still she shook her head.

"I don’t have it," she choked out. "It was destroyed."

Ramming one knee between her thighs, he lifted her off the ground, slamming her into the wall once again. She cried out in pain and he let go of her throat, covering her mouth with his hand.

"Then get your drug. Go get your fucking miracle painkiller that I gave you millions to develop."

The needle burned in her neck when she shook her head. She closed her eyes to avoid his angry stare and he could feel hot tears falling on his arm.

"They…it won’t work yet," she said when he moved his hand back to her neck. "You need to get the old drug out of your system." Beneath his vice like grip she tried to twist free, to pull away from the syringe. He studied her for a moment, one eye squinted as he looked into hers. And although her eyes were wide with terror, she met his gaze. "I won’t let you suffer any more than you need to. Please," she said, "Please, I’m begging you."

For a minute his grip loosened around her throat.

_\- Please…I’m begging you…I want you inside me…-_

She raised her hand to press her palm against his cheek where she could see the rage pulsing at the hinge of his jaw.

"It’s going to get better," she said. "Trust me." Another minute passed in silence before he took the needle from her vein, but he still held her against the wall. "Three days. Give it three days and then I’ll try the injections. If I break my promise," she said, her voice trembling. "You can…you can kill me then."

"I have no interest in killing you," he sighed, letting her go.

She fell to her knees, dizzy from the sudden rush of oxygen and blood to her head. Bane left her there and sat on the edge of the bed, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes and releasing a growl of frustration.

"It’s been nearly twenty years since I’ve felt pain like this."

Slaine took his hand in hers to examine the blooming bruise where he tore out his I.V., then he watched in amazement as she she silently cleaned and bandaged the tiny pinprick of a wound as if nothing had happened between them. When she stepped back to the supply closet he asked,

"Why does your brother call you lamb?"

"Easy to slaughter," she answered automatically, no humor or sarcasm behind the words.

"Of course." He climbed back beneath the cool bed sheets and stared at the ceiling. "Why didn’t you run? When I let you go. Or scream?"

"You said you weren’t going to kill me."

"There are a thousand things I could do to you and still leave you alive."

She froze, syringe in hand, her cheeks flushed, her mind flashing dozens of images in front of her. She took a moment to compose herself before turning around to face him again.

"I don’t think you’ll hurt me," she said, pulling back the sheet to jab the needle into his hip. His nakedness was becoming commonplace to her now. "I’m the only one who knows how to make you any feel better."

Before falling asleep, he grabbed her wrist to get her attention back.

"Tell me Slaine, what will your brother say when he sees the bruises on your throat?"

She frowned and pulled her robe closed, tying the belt in a knot.

"He’ll ask me what I did wrong."

 

********

 

She was comfortable in the mountains, alone on the compound, because she’d always been a daydreamer. Inspired by a childhood of reading and loneliness, her ability to retreat into her imagination was well honed at a young age. But when she grew up her dreams turned to fantasies, of anyone and everyone. Every man she saw she imagined naked, what sort of lover he’d be. She watched men talk and wondered what their kisses would feel like, how their tongue would taste. Working in the lab she pictured her assistant suddenly grabbing her and pushing her against the wall, crushing his body against hers. Thinking that way would cause a sudden rush of heat between her legs, an involuntary muscle clench that made her cheeks flush. No one was immune. Her brothers friends, her father’s associates, clients, her own employees. And yet with all this vivid, aching want…she’d never actually lived it.

While in college she’d been on the occasional date, but nothing ever progressed past four or five minutes of anticlimactic good night kissing in the front seat of a car. She told her self it was because she was too busy, to focused; but deep down she knew the truth — she was undesirable. She was withdrawn and awkward, too bookish and pale. She also told herself that she didn’t mind being so alone, so well ignored. If she wanted an orgasm she could pull out a vibrator and imagine screwing her sophomore math teacher. She could watch porn, read trashy novels, take long baths. She told herself that a life of study and progress was more important, that falling asleep concocting an imaginary lover, tucking pillows around her so it felt like someone pressed up against her back, would always be enough.

But she was also smart enough not to believe it.


	4. Chapter 4

As promised, Slaine came back to him with a syringe in hand after three days. By then the worst of his withdrawal symptoms had faded, leaving a pure glowing white pain running the length of his spine.

“It’s a self injection system, like an epipen,” she said, swabbing the taut skin of his quadriceps. “And it’s long acting, the exact opposite of your mask. But it takes quite a while for it to reach peak concentration in your blood.” She injected the drug. “I’ll come back to increase the dose later, but this should help out a bit.”

“Thank you,” Bane said, laying back against the pillow.

“You haven’t eaten in a couple of days. You have to do everything you can to make yourself feel better,” she said, staring at his closed eyes, the fan of dark lashes, the line of his jaw. She was tempted to stroke his forehead, like caring for a child sick with the flu. She'd been where he was, suffering and exhausted, uncomfortable in her own skin. A kind word or touch was its own powerful sedative. “So think of anything that increases your natural endorphins.” While she explained, her eyes followed the topography of his chest, muscles and bone, the curve of his biceps. “Music, laughter, exercise…” in normal patient/doctor discussions her next suggestion would have been sexual activity, but for obvious reasons the words stuck in her throat. Images from her dream flashed through her mind.

It hadn’t been the first time she'd imagined him that way. She remembered seeing him on the news months ago; his mask, the heavy black boots, the imposing shearling coat that was on the cover of every newspaper once he’d blow up that stadium. It had shocked her to think of him back then, when the world saw him as the devil incarnate, when he held the lives of millions in his hands. And yet while everyone cowered in fear she imagined herself writhing beneath him, hearing that mechanical voice in her ear, feeling his weight pressing against her. She wanted to know what it was like to be his, to belong to him.

“Shaving,” he said, his voice breaking through her daydream. “I can’t stand feeling this," he said, rubbing his stubbled jaw. "I feel…filthy.”

“Oh…yeah. Of course. I can get Richard to get you…”

“And a shower. My muscles ache, my skin itches.”

His body, every inch of it, glistening beneath a steaming shower. Her cheeks flared with heat and she was positive he could read her mind. Before answering him she shook her head clear.

“You’re probably losing tone, and getting restless I’m sure,” she said, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. There were still bandages on the stitched up sides of his torso. “But your wounds aren’t healed enough for you to soak in a tub or get in a shower. I could…arrange for a sponge…bath. At least you’ll start to feel human again if you feel clean.”

“Oh I doubt it little lamb,” he said, “it’s been a long time since I've felt human.” One side of his mouth curved up in a smile, but his eyes remained closed.

“Don’t call me that,” she said, her blood suddenly cold. She stood and put the chair back against the wall. “Get some rest, I’ll get you something to eat.”

**********************************

It took some time, it took adjusting, but her drug began to work. She increased the dosage over the next couple of days and he found his appetite returning, his thoughts clearing. There were times, hours even, when he didn’t think about his pain at all…when he simply existed like a normal human being. At night, when Slaine slept, he walked up and down the stairs. He did push ups against the wall of his room, and in the hour before sunrise, when the room was purply gray with light, he sat on the hardwood floor with his legs crossed and meditated, his breathing slow and even, just as he had learned to do in the pit.

Still, he couldn’t clear his mind of her. Even in the silent dark he would think of her and smile about something she’d done while she thought he was asleep, some nervous twitch of her eyebrow or the way she looked away when she was embarrassed, rubbing the back of her neck.

She’d brought in a bowl of warm water and soap and a thick yellow sponge. On the chair beside the bed she put a thick white towel, a razor and mirror.

“Here you go,” she’d said. “Just…just holler for me when you’re done and I’ll come get the…”

“I won’t be able to do it myself. My ribs are still sore and I can’t reach my back to wash it. I haven’t shaved my own face in years. I’d probably slice myself open.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and he watched the color rise in her cheeks, her pupils dilate. He was a keen observer of body language, silent cues. She wanted to help him, couldn't resist.

“I can get Richard to…”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to sit on the edge of the bed, not letting her go. A lot of old energy had returned. Pent up energy, coursing through his veins. The room was cold and he could see her nipples, taut under her tight fitting shirt.

“I want you to do it, doctor,” he said, his voice very low, smooth and calm, but he was careful to put no threat behind it. Instead he rubbed his thumb against the thin soft skin on the inside of her wrist.

 

He sat in the chair and she stood in front of him, her fingers trembling as she rubbed the shaving foam into his cheeks and down his throat. She smelled like oranges and cinnamon, her body radiated heat. As she worked with agonizing slowness, leaning in closer with each stroke of the blade, he found himself drawn to the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, the pink cupids bow of her upper lip.

“Close your eyes,” she’d said to him, feeling his stare. “I can’t do this if you’re watching me.”

But she’d finished just the same, swiping the clean towel over his smooth face, behind his ears, down his throat. For a minute she just stared. He said nothing, no thanks, no smart remarks. He swallowed, his lips parted, his jaw slack. She swiped a dab of soap from his temple with her index finger and smiled.

“All done,” she’d said, but he couldn’t help but notice how her voice cracked with the words.

*************

He slept in late and woke with the sun streaming in through the windows.  For the first time in a long time he felt rested.  Completely.  The house was silent.  He got up and stood at the window, stretching his neck from side to side.  Slaine was out with the dog and he watched her running and leaping around the backyard with him, throwing a ball, clapping, a wide smile on her face the whole time.  Her cheeks were pink from the chill, some of her hair pulled loose from the knot on top of her head, whipping around in the wind.  She looked so much more alive out in the fresh air, more comfortable in her skin.  He was reminded of the young gray foxes he used to see running around in the desert, spry and quick on their feet, glittering eyes.  As if sensing him watching her, she stopped and whistled, bringing the dog to heel, then looked up towards the window, shielding her eyes from the sun to better see him.  She gave a smile, half the size of the one for the dog, and waved.  Then, as something occurred to her she held up one finger, indicating he should wait for her.  Bane turned away from the window, suddenly feeling childish standing there watching her.

She was at his door in less than two minutes, a bit out of breath, but holding a slim box in one hand.

“I have something for you,” she said, holding it out to him.

It took him a moment to recognize the apparatus, metal and black neoprene, but she took it out of the box and held it up.

“It’s a new wrist guard.  Your old one was damaged in the…in Gotham.” She slipped it over his fingers and down his forearm, helping him tighten the laces that ran up the side.  He opened and closed his hand, turned it side to side, testing out the flexible but strong material.  She’d noticed him rubbing the scars on his arm, staring at them for minutes at a time when he thought no one was watching.  They bothered him, distracted his thoughts.  After doing some research, she’d ordered the new wrist guard online, guessing on the size and what material would be most comfortable.

He looked down at her but said nothing.  His eyes were a mixture of surprise and confusion.  She’d thrown him off and it nearly made her laugh out loud to see him unsure of himself.  But another, quieter, darker part of her was immensely pleased.  For pleasing him.  Finally, he cleared his throat and held the newly sheathed hand out to shake hers.  

“Thank you doctor,” he said. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

His grip on her was strong.

*********************

“What’s goin’ on boss?” Richard asked, leaning against the doorframe.  He was holding a beer in one hand while Lopez sat in the chair next to Bane’s bed, checking something on his phone.  He’d called them in for a meeting while Slaine spent the afternoon at the lab.

“We’re going to be heading out soon.  I need you to go get things prepared. We need a new safe location.  Somewhere ripe for recruiting.  And we need a plane to get everything there.  All of this needs to be kept quiet, a minimal crew.  We keep operations small this time.”

The men nodded, Lopez got up and left, having never looked up from his phone.

“What about Slaine,” Richard asked, “does she know we’re leaving?”

Bane continued doing bicep curls with the two small free weights she'd given him.  The medicine was at a perfect dosage and his energy was spiking, he felt brand new, like the nightmare at Gotham was well behind him.  Without looking Richard in the eye he said,

“She’s going with us, but I haven’t told her yet.”

*************

“You’re going where?  Richard there’s a storm coming tomorrow.”  She stood behind him as he packed a small bag.  Lopez had already left, his job was to find the plane, the pilot, secure a flight plan.  Richard had the rest - a place to settle, to install their equipment - and a lab.

“I know that Lamb, I’m not an idiot.  If it starts storming I’ll be back before the streets are blocked.”

“Either way you’ll be back tonight, right?  In a couple of hours.”  She glanced up the stairs to where Bane’s door was closed.  He’d fallen asleep after lunch. She’d looked in on him, amazed at how peaceful, how young, how…normal he looked without the mask.  He was letting his facial hair grow into a goatee and he’d asked her what she thought of that…just as a joke.  She liked it.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.  I have to go back and get some things from our second base outside Gotham.  Don’t worry.”

“You’re leaving me alone with a mass murderer.  Alone.  Overnight.”

Richard hitched the bag over his shoulder and kissed Slaine on the forehead, an unusual show of affection.

“You have the dog.  He’ll protect you.  You’ll be fine.”

“Come back as soon as you can.  Don’t leave me here alone.”

“You saved his life, Slaine.  He’s not going to kill you.”

She nodded and watched him make his way to the truck.  Killing wasn’t what she was afraid of. 

***************

Sure enough the snow started early and came down hard.  Bane watched her pace the hallways like a caged tiger, peeking out the door, listening to the radio, staring out at the road. 

“I’m sure your brother knows how to take care of himself,” he said to her, knowing that it wasn’t what she was worried about.

“Yeah.  You’re…you’re right.  I know.  I just…don’t like storms.  If they get too bad, they shut down the roads.  He may not be able to…get back.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, feeling her entire body stiffen.  She was shorter than him and he had to lean down to put his lips close to her ear. 

“And then no one would be here to protect you.  Is that what you’re really afraid of?  After all this time do you think I’m going to hurt you Slaine?” 

“N…no.  No I’m not.”

Not moving away from her, he ran his fingertips down the side of her arm.  She could feel him smiling.  It changed the tone of his voice.

“I think you’re afraid of what I could do that wouldn’t hurt you.  Right, doctor?”

Slaine shrugged out from under his hand that left a trail of goosebumps down her arm and turned to look him in the eye.

“Good night,” she said, her tone cold and even.  She walked to her room and locked the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

The blizzard got worse, blocking roads far beyond the lodge, even beyond the lab. Richard and Lopez were still gone, not even a phone call. It was late in the afternoon and Bane slept, sprawled on his bed like a child, arms flopped out to the sides, one leg hanging free off the bed. She knew what it felt like…to finally get the best rest in years…to feel the welcome exhaustion and know you’d be able to sleep all the way through it, the heavy eyelids and warm wave of drowsiness. She was jealous.

She sat in the living room, still in her pajamas, flipping backwards through a magazine, her dog beside her. Her eyes kept moving up to the window, watching the flakes swirl and blur the landscape, the pine trees bending to the East. When she was a child it was her favorite time of year, the storms that kept everyone in, her parents and brother around her, the illusion of familial intimacy. They would eat meals together, maybe even play a game of cards and she would go to bed dreaming of ten more feet of snow to keep the cocoon intact. 

With a flicker and woosh, the power dimmed, brightened and went out. The roar of the furnace had been so constant for the past few days that without it the silence felt heavy and unnatural. Clocks, DVD player, the television all appeared as dead creatures with blank displays. Luckily her patient was no longer on any monitors or support machines. Luckily, it was still day, and she had three hours to amass candles, build a fire and make preparations.

Unluckily, she would soon be alone in the dark with Bane.

*******

When he woke, the room was inordinately dark…and colder than it had been. The hallway outside the room was empty blackness and the house was silent. He got out of bed and slipped into a pair of flannel sleep pants. Flicking the light switch twice he realized what had happened. The wind howled, scratching branches against the window panes, the old lodge walls creaking as the storm continued to rage.

“Slaine?”

Even with the medication, some of the simplest tasks still stirred up sharp pains in his ribs so he winced as he pulled a t-shirt over his head and made his way out into the hallway. From the top of the stairs he saw a faint amber glow and heard the snapping of a struggling fire.

She was asleep on the living room floor in front of the fireplace wrapped in a blanket, a half empty bottle of scotch beside her. The fire had been constructed poorly, just a haphazard pile of thick logs that were struggling to keep the flame going. Bane smiled and moved the bottle before crouching in front of the fireplace to rearrange the wood, stuffing smaller kindling and chips of bark beneath the pyramid shape he constructed. 

“Wait…what are you doing?” Her voice was gravelly, a mixture of sleep and drunkenness with a touch of fear. The logs shifted, sending a cloud of sparks and smoke into the room. “Stop it.”

He looked at her over his shoulder, his face reflecting the golden glow. She reminded herself that he was a criminal, a murderer, a thief. Most important of all, a liar. 

“I’m keeping you warm,” he said. “There aren’t many other options. Definitely not any you’d be agreeable to. This fire would have been out in half an hour. And good thing, too, considering you fell asleep in front of it.”

“I was just dozing, not fully asleep.”

“If you say so, lamb.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, pulling the blanket up around her as she sat back against the brown leather couch. 

He turned and sat on the floor, his back to the fire, leaning on his hands. 

“Why do you live here alone?” He asked, the corner of his mouth curled into a smile. It was as if he knew the answer, was only testing her on what information he already had. 

“It’s my family’s home. I like it here. I like to be alone. To work.” She couldn’t look at him, not while she lied. Besides, his broad chest and thick legs looked too comforting, she wanted him to hold her, to cover them both with the quilt and let her fall asleep while he kept watch. She was so tired of keeping watch, solving problems, being responsible. She wanted to let someone else be in charge for a while, to pat her on the head and tell her not to worry about a thing.

“No one likes to be alone. People are adept at convincing themselves that they like to be alone.”

She shrugged and reached for her bottle to take a small, burning sip. Bane leaned forward and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, leaving his hand on her face for a second longer than he needed to. She twisted her face away from him, but he’d felt her cheek burning, could even see the flush in the firelight.

“Even leading an army of thousands, I’ve been alone for years,” he said, looking somewhere over her shoulder. “I just pretended that I was meant for it. Like you’re doing now.”

For a moment he was on all fours as he crawled across the floor to sit beside her and she was reminded of a lion, the way his shoulder blades poked up, the sway of his back, the way his eyes burned into hers. 

“Thank you for making that stew for lunch,” he said. "You're an excellent cook." Then, grabbing the bottle of Scotch, he took a small sip and sighed.

“You…you shouldn’t be drinking while you’re on the medication.”

“It’s just a sip. I haven’t had good Scotch in a long time.” He stared into the fire, his profile angular and golden. “There’s so many things I’ve missed, that I haven’t done for so long. Not just eating decadent meals or drinking good liquor,” he raised an eyebrow and leaned in, “there’s a lot of things I haven’t eaten.” He tilted his head to gauge her response. The way she immediately looked down and away let him know she understood him. “I haven’t kissed anyone in years.”

“Well that makes two of us. But I don’t have a medical excuse,” she said, offering a nervous laugh.

He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her lips to his. A slow, gentle kiss, pulling her bottom lip between his then kissing the corners of her mouth. He pulled away and stared into her eyes.

“I just wanted to feel it. Skin on skin like that,” he said, still holding her. He ran his fingertips over the outline of her mouth, pulling her bottom lip down just a bit to see the wet, seashell pink of the inside. “Kiss me back,” he said, his voice dark and certain. “Kiss me. Let me taste your tongue.”

She hesitated. Why was he doing this? How could he have known what she’d been thinking? Was it a trick? A trap? 

“Slaine,” he said, stroking her cheek with his calloused thumb. “I’m asking because I don’t want to frighten you. But I’m going to kiss you again. I want to feel your tongue. I want to…”

Trembling, Slaine leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, teasing his mouth open with the very tip of her tongue. She was too curious to resist. He groaned at the touch of wetness and pushed her back against the couch, slipping his own tongue over hers, his whole body tingling with goosebumps. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, the muscles of his back moving beneath her hands as the kiss grew deeper. He ran his hands through her hair, his fingers over her scalp. At first she didn’t notice that he’d thrown his leg over her and was straddling her waist. It wasn’t until he settled his weight on her and she felt the hard length of him on her hip that she pulled back, her eyes wide with fear.

“No, wait.”

He was no longer smiling; his eyes were dark and brooding, his mouth open, gasping for breath as he loomed over her. She felt a rush of heat between her legs, an aching to feel what it was like to have him inside her, but she knew it would be wrong. She wouldn’t be anything to him, just another fuck in a line of hundreds.

“What are you afraid of?” He asked, still stroking her hair. Then, leaning in, he whispered in her ear, “are you wet for me doctor?”

“What? I…”

Keeping his eyes on her, his hand roamed under her robe, bunching up her nightgown to work his hand between her thighs. Instinctively she clamped them shut and pushed him away.

“No. No. I can’t. Stop.”

He barely moved, she didn’t have the strength to lift him off of her, but he drew his hand back and returned to her mouth, kissing her slowly, deeply, as if trying to put her in a trance. 

“I won’t hurt you. I’m not all monster,” he whispered against her mouth. “I can keep you warm all night, Slaine.”

Putting both hands on his chest she stopped his rain of kisses. He hissed with pain as she pushed against his healing wounds.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….Just don’t do this. Please,” she said, afraid to look him in the eye, focusing instead on his wet, warm lips, dark and swollen from being smashed against hers. “I’m not…I can’t…” she stood, knocking him to the floor, tipping over the scotch bottle. She had no idea of how late it was, how long she’d been asleep, how long he’d been down there. She felt dizzy, disoriented.

“Slaine, don’t leave. You don’t have to leave,” he said, going up on his knees so that he was literally kneeling in front of her, this man, this criminal, this murderer. He wasn’t all monster. She could see it in his face, his face no longer hidden by a mask, his voice no longer twisted and darkened behind black rubber and metal. “Stay here where it’s warm. I won’t…I won’t make you do anything.”

She called to the dog, retied the belt of her robe and left the room.

****************

Her bedroom was icy, on the first floor, furthest from the living room. The windows were drafty, tiny drifts of snow built up in the outside corners. As she pulled an extra sweater and pair of socks from the drawer she could hear him walking through the tiled kitchen. 

He pushed the door open slowly and stared at her sitting on the bed, her legs tucked up beneath her, watching out the window.

“Come back to the fire,” he said, his tone firm but calm. “You can’t sleep in here.”

“Of course I can,” she said, not looking at him. “The house is still well over fifty degrees and I have…”

He was standing beside her then, his hand tight around her biceps, pulling her to her feet.

“Don’t be foolish. I’m not going to attack you. You made yourself perfectly clear.” He let her go and pulled the pillows from the queen size bed, handing them over for her to carry. “I’ll get some more blankets from upstairs, you go and warm up.”

She wrapped herself again, sitting on the couch, staring into the fire. Outside the snow swirled and drifted with enough strength to block out the view of the trees or the driveway. It was an empty white void. You made yourself perfectly clear. Had she? How could she explain to him that his kisses made her whole body feel electric, the muscles between her legs clenching involuntarily, her scalp tingling with arousal. Would he even believe that she was over thirty years old and still a virgin? She would bore him, couldn’t give him what he was craving. He didn’t really want her anyway…it was just his body readjusting to normal, increased sexual appetite was to be expected. 

He appeared in the doorway, his arms weighed down with pillows and quilts, the dog standing beside him, tongue hanging out, tail wagging happily.

“Not so much of a guard,” he said, dropping the bedding on the floor. “But I bet he’s warm.” He crouched down to pet the dog, grabbing his neck and rubbing beneath the nylon collar. “You’re a good boy Marcus.”

“How do you know his name?” she asked.

“I listen to you. Even when you’re not talking to me. It’s how I find out about you since you close down whenever I’m in the room.”

He arranged the pillows and blankets on the floor in front of the fire and Marcus took his place at the foot of the makeshift bed, tucking his tail around his legs.

“Lay down,” he said. She’d been still as a statue on the couch, mesmerized by the process, watching the villain turned nurturer. “I gave you my word. Now lay down.” His voice was a bit more stern the second time around and for some reason it made her shiver.

Once she was beneath the blankets, her cold toes aching from the penetrating warmth, he slipped in beside her. For a second she held her breath, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. When shifting position his foot brushed against hers and she felt it with every nerve in her body.

“Good night,” he said, turning onto his side to face away from her.

It took her some time to fall asleep, wondering if she wanted him to keep his promise.


	6. Chapter 6

She woke up feeling his breath on the back of her neck. The room was gray with early dawn, the fire still crackling, fresh logs stacked on the top. He’d been keeping watch, awake while she slept, no doubt watching her and it made her uncomfortable to think about. When she moved she noticed his hand on her stomach, heavy and warm on the fabric of her nightgown. The depth of his breathing let her know he was truly asleep, almost assuredly imagining she was someone else. 

Lifting the blanket she looked down at the thick fingers of his hand, the hair on his forearm. His shin brushed against her calf as he drew her in against his chest, his arm clamped tight over her side. He was molded against her back and she could feel every part of him – particularly the parts that weren’t asleep. How many times had she dreamt of being held like this, sheltered, protected in someone’s arms? Moving slowly she slipped her hand over his, stroking the backs of his fingers, the bones of his wrist. Beneath hers his hand moved, sliding up, pulling the fabric of her gown with it, his pinky brushing the bottom of her breast. She held her breath.

“Bane,” she whispered, but his breathing was still deep and even.

At his touch her nipples puckered and hardened. She felt a jolt of arousal and squeezed her thighs together to prolong it. He shifted again, working his knee in between her legs, hooking one foot around her ankle. While his palm massaged her breast, his thumb teasing her hardened nipple, his other arm hooked around her from beneath, heavy across her shoulders like an iron bar. She was trapped.

“You aren’t trying to stop me,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. His lips touched her ear and he tugged the lobe between his teeth.

She said nothing, only closed her eyes and feigned sleep, letting him skim his hands over her body, kneading her breasts, squeezing her hip. He brushed her hair away from her shoulder and kissed her neck, grinding his hips against hers, making her gasp.

“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” he asked, kissing the skin behind her ear. “I’ve imagined it from the moment I first saw you.” He slipped his hand beneath her nightgown but just as quickly pulled back when he felt her stiffen with fear. He traced the line of her jaw instead, bringing his thumb to rest on her bottom lip. It was subtle, but he felt her tip her hips backwards, pushing back against his hardened prick. His lips and tongue marking trails on her neck and shoulders drew tiny mewling sounds of approval from her and she reached backwards to rest her hand on the hard muscles of his thigh.

“Open your mouth,” he said, his lips forming the words against her ear. When she didn’t immediately comply he pulled at her lip with his fingers and said, “open it.” She did as he asked and he slipped his thumb in between her lips.

“Now then,” he said, pushing his hips harder against hers “Now show me how hungry you are to suck my cock.” She whined and squirmed but he held her tight against him, thrusting his thumb over her tongue. “Shhh, don’t talk, just do it, girl.”

She was starting to feel warm, too warm, and her need, life long, was shoving common sense to the side. She liked feeling his lips on her skin, his erection pressing into her back. Already she could tell that she was wet, her body aching for the release he could give her after all this time. Closing her lips around his thumb made him groan, air hissing out through clenched teeth. Slowly she sucked, letting her mouth massage him as his other hand roamed further down to pull up her nightgown, pushing it up around her hips. Just as he asked, she imagined in her mind that his thumb was his cock, dragging her tongue up the sides, swirling it over the tip, and yet she honestly had no idea what she was doing, or what to do next. He would find out soon enough that she was entirely useless to him. She twisted free of his grip and turned onto her side to face him. He tried to kiss her, to guide her onto her back, but she stopped him.

"I have thought of it," she said, afraid to look him in the eye. "But I…imagining it is all I’ve done…with anyone."

"I’ve already said I won’t hurt you Slaine."

"I know, I just don’t want to disappoint you."

"I doubt very much you could do that," he said, drawing her close to him. He made her feel small, weightless and content, as if once she was wrapped in his arms no one could get to her. No one. Without realizing it, he rested her cheek against his heart and sighed. "Why have you waited so long?" he asked, hoping to distract her from his hand on her stomach.

She shrugged, not wanting to look up at him just yet. “No one has ever bothered to ask me.”

He leaned in to nip at her earlobe again and holding her face in one of his strong hands he whispered, “would you like me to fuck you, Slaine?”

Her breath caught in her throat and he felt her whole body shiver beneath his hand. This was no delicate flower. She wanted to be taken.

"Yes," she answered, falling over onto her back and letting out a draining sigh of relief. Just saying it out loud was like a weight off her soul. 

He sat up on his heels and pulled his shirt over his head. She felt like she finally had permission to admire him openly. If she wanted she could run her hands over his rippled stomach, press her lips to the thick muscles in his shoulders, the vicious scar that ran the length of his spine. But for now he simply held his hand out to her and pulled her up to kneel in front of him.

"I’ll take good care of you doctor, you don’t have to worry." His voice was low and smooth, buttery like warm caramel, slowing her heartbeat, her cycle of breathing. And yet her teeth still chattered, and he knew it wasn’t from the cold.

She let him lift her arms up over her head and pull off her nightgown. On her knees in front of him in just her white panties, her hair hanging like waves of silk over one of her shoulders — he wanted a picture of it. He wanted to show her the power she had, how beautiful she was. Instead she just crossed her arms over her stomach and stared at the floor, her hair hiding her face like a curtain.

"Look at me, girl," he said, tipping her chin up. "Don’t hide from me anymore. Not ever."

Taking her by the wrist he pulled her to lean back against his chest.

"Put your arms around my neck. Leave them there no matter what, and spread your legs for me."

Still kneeling, she opened her thighs and sat back on her heels, her back pressed against his chest. How quickly she opened herself up to him and how completely. With his lips on her neck he ran his hands down the sides of her body to the top of her panties.

"They think I know nothing but violence," he said, moving one hand down between her legs, finding her slick, heated center. She writhed and squirmed, pushing back against him. "They don’t know how much I crave this softness, this warmth." As he pulled at her with long, slow strokes she could hear him purring, deep in his throat and it made her melt deeper into him.

Twisting the fabric of her underwear in his fingers he pulled them taut, sliding the thin swath of fabric between her legs. She gasped when it rubbed against her clit and she let her arms drop. He stopped, pulling his hand away, and she watched him suck his fingers clean.

"No..please…" she arched her back, swiveled her hips, but he just laughed at her straining.

"Tsk tsk. You’re not behaving," he said, pulling her arms behind his neck again, holding them by the wrists, tighter than before.. "Don’t drop them again, or you’ll really be in trouble, little girl."

For a moment neither of them moved until Slaine drew in a deep lungful of breath and calmly answered,

"Yes sir,"

But she couldn’t see him smile.

 

His hand found his way between her legs again, stroking her with a slow, steady rhythm, his thick fingers pumping in and out as she rolled her hips, the rough frame of his wrist guard biting into her skin.

“I’ve had to learn how to bring satisfaction with just my hands in these past years,” he whispered into her hair. “But no one has ever left my bed unhappy. Sore maybe, but never unsatisfied.”

She felt her legs start to tremble as his finger traced circles around the slick bead of nerves between her folds and he encouraged her let herself go, his other hand resting on her throat, his finger running along her open mouth.

“No one’s home little girl, you can scream if you want to,” he said, working his fingers faster inside and out. “I want you to come all over my hand, I want you to fuck my fingers as hard as you can. Show me how you fuck, little girl.”

She nodded, feeling the climax building inside, feeling the pressure low in her belly, the tingles through her scalp, that point of no return where she couldn’t get him deep enough or fast enough or hard enough. When he knew she was close he took a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back exposing her neck, making her whine and strain against him while he rolled over her clit with his thumb.

“And if you’re a good girl and you do what I say, you can fuck my cock next,” he said, putting his lips against the pulse that beat in her throat. “For as long as you want it.”

Just hearing him say it, hearing him growl when he felt her grinding against his hand, hearing his fingers sliding through the slick heat of her cunt was enough to push Slaine over the edge and she wailed with orgasm while he held her against him, raking his fingers through her hair and down over her back as if to soothe her.

She was shaking and exhausted, but before she could catch her breath she turned and took his face in her hands, crushing her lips hard against his, wrapping her legs around his hips to hold him. Beneath her kiss he smiled, relishing the brush of her hand on the back of his neck, on his jaw, places where no one had touched him in ages. When he pulled back to look at her he saw the glistening trail of tears down her cheek and wiped at it with his pinky. 

“What’s this then?” He asked.

“I just…I…thank you. Thank you for that. I’ve never felt so…fucking good!” she laughed out loud, her mouth a wide smile, showing all of her teeth, and he couldn’t help but smile with her. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, the first time he’d seen her so happy, and it was because of him. 

They kissed again and Slaine pulled herself away, sitting on one hip in front of him, comfortable in her nakedness, in her own skin. Her panties were still askew so she pulled them off and threw them behind her head, making him laugh again. Feeling brave and wanting more, she went up on all fours and leaned forward to kiss his chest. A deep, rumbling purr resonated from his throat as she pushed him back to sit against the couch. 

“Can…I…I want to touch you,” she said, running her fingertips over the wounds on his stomach and ribcage. “But I don’t want to…”

He took her hand by the wrist and pulled it down to the hardened bulge in his loose fitting pajama pants. 

“Don’t be shy, angel. Touch whatever you want…however you want to.”

Keeping her hand on his cock she leaned forward to kiss his lips again, then down to his neck, his chest, teasing his nipples with her tongue. He tangled his hand into her hair, guiding her head as she kissed and licked her way down his torso, the skin she’d dreamt of tasting for weeks. It was hers now, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

“Don’t stop,” he said, his voice actually a bit breathless. For a moment he seemed almost…flustered.

She pulled at the waistband of his pants and he helped her to slide them down his hips, freeing the thick, hardened member, and she actually gasped at its size. Suddenly she felt herself getting wet again, wanting to feel him inside her, wanting him to make her scream. Still holding her hair, he pushed her head down until her lips brushed the head of his cock, making him hiss the air through his teeth. Gently he bucked against her mouth and gathered up all of her hair in his hand to hold it away from her face.

“I want to watch you suck me off.”

With that, she froze. He pulled he hair to make him look at her and she shook her head.

“I don’t know what to do… I mean I want…”

“You know what to do girl, you’ve just never done it.” Letting go for a moment, he reached down her back and drew his fingers between her legs, coating his fingers with her juices. She watched as he stroked himself with her own wetness, his eyes locked on hers as he got even harder, his cock glistening with lubrication. “Now,” he said, pulling her hair up again and holding it tight. “Clean it off. With your tongue.”

At first her touch was tentative. The tip of her tongue at the base of his dick, she pulled upwards, swirled her tongue around the head and back down again. Again she lapped at the taut, velvety skin, taking a bit more of him into her mouth, letting her lips close over his thickness, letting her tongue curl around the width of the shaft. Once she’d gotten used to it a bit, he thrust a bit deeper into her mouth, holding her head still.

“Suck,” he hissed, slowing fucking her mouth, careful not to frighten or gag her. Her own strokes became faster, she bobbed her own head back and forth, letting him touch the back of her throat while she pumped him with her hand. “Oh Slaine…fucking hell,” he said, his voice breathy and quiet. “I need to fuck you.”

He pulled her off of him and kissed her hard on the mouth, once again reaching his hand down between her legs, not the least bit surprised to find her dripping with wetness once again, shivering when he teased her clit with a pinch between two fingers which he then stuck in her mouth for her to clean.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, pushing her down onto her back. She had her hands wrapped around his neck, her eyes wide with fear and anticipation. He wasn’t accustomed to fucking like this. The women he passed the time with in the sewers or in the bunkers were usually bent over a table, or climbed on top of him while he sat in a chair…whatever was fastest, whatever let her walk out the door in less than ten minutes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked a woman in the eye while entering her, but he wanted to see her face, her reaction. He wanted to be there with her.

Beneath him, Slaine couldn’t stop shaking. She knew it was going to hurt, but she didn’t care. This was what she wanted, and she was glad she’d waited her whole life to let Bane be her first. She bent her knees and spread her legs to let him stroke her again, slowly, deeply, getting her wetter than she thought possible. Then he took his dick in hand and guided it to her entrance, bending forward to hold her face still, to look her in the eye. 

“Thank you,” was all he said before kissing her. And as he kissed her he slowly pushed inside. She grimaced in pain and dug her fingernails into his arms. “Oh God,” he said when he had thrust into her as far as he could. “Oh its so tight.” He pulled back and pushed in again, another moment of stretching, tearing. She bit her bottom lip and held onto him, blinking back the tears that she could feel rolling down over her temples. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, licking them away, but she just shook her head at him.

“Keep going. I want you to hurt me. I want you to fuck me. Don’t be afraid. You don’t have to be gentle.”

He growled as she said it, and fucked into her hard enough to make her back arch up off the floor while she cried out his name. She wrapped her legs around his hips and dug her heels into his back as he continued to piston against her, his breath ragged and shallow, his eyes burning into hers.

“Scream for me, angel. I want to hear you come.”

He pinned her arms to the floor above her head and pushed harder, faster, feeling the tension building in every muscle in his body. She only whimpered at first, a mixture of pain and ecstasy, but as he neared the end she began to wail, to beg for him, calling out his name as he sucked at the sweating skin on her throat. Knowing he was about to explode he stopped all at once and looked her in the eye. She’d seen that face before, that look. This was the Bane she’d seen in the mask, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and penetrating, almost…cold. Slowly he thrust into her to the hilt and asked,

“Who do you belong to now?”

“You,” she answered, without even a second’s hesitation. He pulled back and thrust into her harder. Her head banged against the floor but she composed herself.

“Who does your pussy belong to now?” He thrust again, restarting his rhythm.

“You,” she said, clutching at his back, desperate for release.

“Who makes you come, little lamb?”

“You, only you. Only Bane.”

With a few final strokes he locked his hips against her and came, a low rumbling growl in her ear, his chest heaving with breath. She squeezed her muscles around his cock and triggered her own climax, rocking against him as everything within her stiffened and clenched. It exhausted her, but she didn’t want to let him go. 

Even minutes later, after they’d kissed, after he smiled at her and stroked her hair, she found herself falling asleep with him still inside her, the best sleep she’d ever known.

Bane rested his head on her shoulder and looked out the window. The sun had risen and the storm had passed. The men would be back soon and they would move on with their plan. The plan Slaine didn’t know of yet. He kissed the soft skin between her breasts and ran his hand over her hip before pulling the blanket up to cover them both.

Richard had been right.

She had a weakness


	7. Chapter 7

They slept through the morning, when the fire finally went cold and Marcus tiptoed over to Slaine, licking her face to wake her.

“Oh,” she said, blinking back to reality. “Sorry boy.”

Had she dreamt it? It had been so – easy, so comfortable and almost natural being with him that she could hardly believe it was true. The world hadn’t cracked in half at their union, he didn’t laugh at her inexperience…it was all…very good. Almost too good. A taste of something so decadent that she would never have enough of it. But she was indeed nude beneath the quilt and the quiet breathing from the man beside her let her know it was all real.

She rubbed the dog’s ears and sat up. Immediately his hand was on the small of her back. 

“Why are you getting up? I’m cold without you,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her back down against his warm chest. He made a convincing argument without uttering a word.

“The dog has to go out. And I should check my phone, see if Richard is OK.”

“Your brother is fine. He’s a strong, clever man and a good soldier.”

“So I’ve heard him tell me,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him with a crooked smile. She reminded him of a statue he’d seen once, in Florence maybe. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry.”

While getting her coat and boots she showed him the propane camp stove she kept out in the winter. He put water on for tea and watched her through the kitchen window as she played with the dog. Together they checked the depth of the snow, broke long, glistening icicles off of the eaves and Slaine stood in the center of the front yard with a smile on her face, staring up at the clear blue sky.

On the wall beside the refrigerator was a calendar featuring pictures of the sweeping vistas of Gotham. Richard told him that he’d been paying attention to Slaine’s routine, watching for signs, but perhaps the calendar could be more concrete. He had picked up the sheaf of pages and was flipping through them, looking for a pattern of markings when she walked back in.

“Well it’s still freezing, but at least the snow stopped. There has to be at least eight inches out there! But we've had worse. I’m sure the power will be back soon,” she said, her cheeks flushed pink, eyes shining and bright.

“Not too soon I hope,” he said, bending down to kiss her, slipping the heavy fabric off of her naked shoulders. She'd gone outside with nothing on beneath her coat, her nipples were dark rosy pink and hardened. It nearly took his breath away. “I want to play with you some more.”

It all seemed different in the daylight, standing in front of him while he whispered filthy things in her ear. She felt much smaller. It was like she was a child caught playing make believe. She was intimidated and nervous and folded her arms over her chest. But her fear was no match for his lust and he simply pulled her hands free and pinned them behind her back, all the while kissing her, walking her backwards, his tongue like the serpent in Eden, tempting her, tricking her, drawing her out. She found herself aroused at the way his chest brushed against hers, the warm, scratchy skin against her sensitive nipples making her gasp. Once he’d backed her up to the counter he lifted her onto it, instructing her to sit still. 

“Did you have fun last night?” He asked, opening her thighs and standing between them.

“I did,” she said, dropping her eyes.

While he spoke he dragged his fingertips over the hair between her legs almost absentmindedly, a comfort gesture, but still it warmed her from within. She felt the aching heaviness of arousal building in her belly.

“And did I hurt you, angel?”

“No…just for a minute. I don’t care.”

“Sometimes pain makes the pleasure more acute,” he said, leaning in to kiss her again. Then, without warning he reached up and pinched her taut nipple until she cried out, the sensation like lightning down her spine. “But I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

Hooking his foot around one of the kitchen chairs he pulled it over and sat down in front of her. With his hands behind her knees he pulled her to the very edge of the countertop. Close enough that she could feel his breath on her dampening sex.

“Lay back,” he said, pushing her down with one hand on her belly. “What a tight little cunt,” he said, easily slipping two fingers inside. “And so pretty. I’m going to shave it bare later.”

She gasped at his close inspection, but as asked she didn’t move, just lowered her eyes to watch him work, fucking his fingers slowly in and out, murmuring his approval at the soft wet sounds her body made.

“It’s only fair, since you helped me shave last week, pretty girl.”

He leaned forward and kissed the cool, milky skin of her spread thighs, moving her legs to rest over his shoulders. Anticipating his move she reached down and wrapped a hand around his head. His eyes flicked up to lock on hers, fiery and dark.

“No,” he said quietly, placing both of her hands on the counter behind her. “You stay still until I tell you to move.” Then, taking all of her long, dark hair in one tight fist he pulled her face down close to his. “If you misbehave again I’ll have to tie you down little girl,” he whispered, kissing her jaw bone.

“I’m sorry,” she said. He didn’t let go of her hair, only pulled it harder, turning his ear to her lips.

“What was that?”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

As a reward he kissed her on the mouth slowly, sucking at her bottom lip for a moment before letting her go.

She leaned back, her hands on the cool granite counter top and he returned to his spot between her legs. It was so subtle, the way her knees spread further apart, how she inched her pussy forward, tipping her hips up to offer it to him. But he noticed. Testing her sensitivity he licked at her once, barely opening the wet silky folds. Even so, she sucked her breath in and held it, throwing her head back to look at the ceiling, doing her best to remain still. Happy with her reaction he tongued her more deeply, two thick fingers holding her open, his movements slow and luxuriant like his kisses. When she tried to buck against his mouth, to roll her hips and find some quick relief his hands clamped down hard on her hips, holding her still. Every whine and whimper made him move with agonizing slowness, long torturous lashes of his tongue, bringing her right to the edge of a shattering climax, then stopping. He wouldn’t let her go. He wanted to watch her break apart face to face. Dipping his tongue deep into her wetness he sucked her hardened clit into his mouth and hummed against it, rolling it between his lips. Slaine screamed out in surprise and over stimulation, her heels digging into his back, her fists banging on the countertop.

“Oh God please don’t…no I can’t…” her words were breathless and desperate and still he sucked and pulled at her pearl, knowing she’d have to try and push him away. “Bane…my God…I don’t want to…” she moved her legs and sat up, trembling.

In an instant he was on his feet, standing between her thighs, the chair kicked out from under him. He grabbed her arms and twisted them up behind her back like bird wings, both of her wrists held tight in one of his hands.

“I told you not to move, angel. It’s almost like you want me to restrain you. Is that it?”

With his free hand he pulled out his hardened prick and stroked it slowly. She could smell herself on him, his lips were still swollen and shining from her juices. She'd never wanted to kiss him more. 

“I just…I was going to come and I wanted…”

He pulled her wrists tighter and pressed his cock against her soaking cunt, already open and aching for him.

“You wanted what, my naughty girl?” He pushed forward as she squirmed. With his mouth just an inch from hers he flicked his expert tongue out over her lips, smiling as she chased the kiss that he withheld from her. “What do you want?”

“I wanted you inside me again,” she said. Her voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh..." he said. "Then beg me for it. Beg me to fuck you."

"Please," she said, bucking against him, pressing her chest against his, doing her best to touch any and every part of him. "Please fuck me, Bane. Please."

In answer he drove into her with one long thrust. She groaned like an animal, finding relief at how he filled her. She was so wet, so tight…so new that he wouldn’t last long. The twisted combination of lust and pain on her face made him impossibly hard, he felt everything within him constricting, tight and dense with heat.

“Ah fuck, lamb. I can’t last much longer.”

She rolled her hips against his, drawing him deeper inside, feeling the delicious stretch of him filling her as her muscles began to twitch and clench around him, milking his cock with each of his upward strokes.

He closed his mouth tight over hers as they came together, Slaine’s back arched high off the counter as he nearly roared in his climax then collapsed forward, draped onto her chest. He let her hands go as they both caught their breath and she ran her fingernails over his back, swirls and circles, tracing the length of his jagged scar to soothe him.

“Thank you,” she said.

Still buried deep inside her warmth he tipped his head up to kiss her once on the lips, to look into her eyes, glittering like sapphires. Her devotion, though expected, was dangerous. He knew he could drown in it. But before he could say anything to her the both heard Richard’s truck pulling into the driveway.


	8. Chapter 8

Richard walked in and found Bane in the kitchen, shuffling around in his pajama bottoms and bare feet, putting together two mugs of tea. He nodded at Richard and went back to his chore without a word.

“No power still?” Richard asked, although the lack of heat and light gave him the answer.

“No,” he answered, leaning against the doorframe. “We may need a generator hook up if it doesn’t come back today. She doesn’t have much firewood stocked.”

They stared each other down as if there may have been some change in their status over the past two days, but eventually Richard looked away from the alpha dog and silently made his way through the ground floor of the house as if inspecting its condition. He stopped in the living room when he saw the glowing embers of the dying fire, the tangle of blankets and pillows on the floor. Bane stood behind him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Where’s Slaine?” Richard asked, his eyes locked on the gray t-shirt crumpled on top of the blankets.

“Getting dressed for the day, I’d assume.”

Richard finally turned around to look him in the eye. Bane was smiling at him, one eyebrow raised…so infinitely proud of himself.

“You look like you’re going to be sick, Farrow. As if something is surprising to you.” He leaned in to the younger man’s ear and whispered conspiratorially, “don’t worry brother, she was extremely willing. No one got hurt.”

Balling his fists at his sides, but making the wise choice not to act, Richard shouldered past him, making his way to Slaine’s suite in the back of the house. 

She was running a bath, standing in front of the mirror in her robe, piling her hair on top of her head.

“You’re fucking Bane?”

Her jaw dropped in surprise and she stumbled forward, catching herself on the edge of the sink.

“Jesus Richard,” she said, looking at his reflection. He was exhausted, his eyes were worried. “It was one night. It was freezing here and we had to sleep next to each other for heat…” her cheeks flushed as she tried to stay casual about the whole thing. 

Her mind wouldn’t allow her to speak without flashing up images of Bane between her legs, the tendons straining in his throat as he pushed into her, the way he pinned her wrists down with his thick, hot hands. So she went back to pinning up her hair. But in those short seconds Richard had already seen the change in her, how she held herself now. Now she left her robe loosely tied, closed her eyes as she ran her fingers through her rumpled hair, touched her throat with her fingertips as she talked. Something was awakened in her. A new appetite.

“He doesn’t love you. Doesn’t even care about you,” he said.

And although she’d been repeating that same mantra to herself all morning, the words still hit her like a cannonball.

“Of course he doesn’t,” she said, forcing a burst of laughter. “I don’t want him to. It’s not like that…it’s just part of his recovery. Heightened arousal, increased libido. And it feels good. It’s just for fun.”

“Yeah, Bane is known for his wacky weekend antics.” He grabbed her elbow and spun her around, forcing her to look him in the eye. “You and I know this is all bullshit. I knew this would happen. I knew you’d fucking lay down your life for the first cock to pop your cherry, I just didn’t think it would be him.”

It felt good to slap him. Just like the movies she was sure to use the whole length of her arm and crack her palm right across his cheekbone. 

“Don’t give me this concern for my wellbeing crap. We all know that if you’d come back to discover he’d murdered me you’d help him bury the body, so don’t come in and try to play big brother now.”

“Is there a problem?” Bane’s deep, calm voice resonated in her belly, and were she not so angry with her brother’s accusations she would have thrown herself in to her new lover’s arms, crushed her lips over his just prove that he felt something for her, to recreate that feeling of safety, of knowing someone would protect her. Of course part of her was afraid of what she would discover.

“No,” she said, turning off the bath faucet. “I have to go get your injection, then I’d like to take my bath.” She squeezed herself past both men and made her way upstairs.

Bane blocked Richard’s exit.

“What are you doing, Farrow? A little bit of undermining?”

“No. I just…look, I know that you appreciate the undivided devotion, but I just…Slaine is a girl who is desperate. She's lonely and she's broken. She will cling to you and never let you go. You’ll be miserable and then you’ll get angry…you’ll…it’s not good for either of you if she doesn’t know the truth.”

“Do you think I’m unable to care about people? To fall in love with someone?”

“I…”

Bane backed Richard up to the wall, trapping him in the corner. Richard had thought that without the mask he might have been less intimidating, that he might have inspired less fear in fully grown men. But he was wrong. Without warning Bane closed a hand over his throat and slammed his head hard against the tile wall.

“My plans for your sister are none of your concern, brother. You’ve always trusted me in the past to make the right decisions for all of us, now its time for you to do it again. But let me be clear,” he said, again slamming his head against the tile again for emphasis. “If I ever see you lay a hand on her in anger, if I ever hear you insult her, if you ever call her ‘lamb’, ever again, you will pay for it. Dearly.”

Richard nodded, lowering his eyes in submission.

"So that’s how it is then?" Richard whispered, looking at the ground. "She’s all of the sudden second in command?"

"No," Bane said, releasing him. "But it would be nice if she felt that way for a while." Richard had no answer for it, just stood, hunched over, catching his breath. “Go on then,” Bane said, “Go do you work. Find out when the power will be restored.”

“Just…just remember what I told you. She’s easily hurt.”

“Like she said, it’s a bit late for you to start playing concerned brother. But be sure that I appreciate it. Your lifetime of bullying has made her vulnerable to men like me.”

*******

Bane found her coming down the staircase, syringe in hand. He opened his arms wide to block her passage and smiled up at her.

“I’ve trapped you again,” he said, his smile subtle and crooked.

She smiled and blushed, putting one hand on his bare stomach, mostly because she could. But it was also a tiny show of affection she was willing to display while she looked around for Richard or Lopez’s watchful eye.

“Do you want to try giving the injection to yourself today?” She asked.

He slipped his hand inside her robe and down over her naked hip, raising goosebumps along her arms. When she tried to pull away he simply held tighter, knowing he’d win. “No, girl. I want you to take care of me. Take me down to your bedroom,” he said, squeezing her ass. “I thought you were getting in the bath.”

Her cheeks still pink, she brushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear and he let her lead the way down the staircase. They walked through the kitchen, past Richard who was making something to eat. He slammed the cupboard door.

“Go build up the fire, Farrow,” Bane said, over his shoulder. “It worked like a charm last night.”

And the two of them disappeared into the master suite.


	9. Chapter 9

In her room, Bane closed and locked the door before turning back to see Slaine dutifully preparing his shot, drawing the liquid up from a vial with her back turned to him.  He stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the bone at the top of her spine, but she wriggled herself free, finally turning to face him.

“Careful,” was all she said.

Even after all they’d shared, all they’d done, she stood there in front of him completely folded into herself, her eyes on the ground, her cheeks red with embarrassment.  And although he knew it made her uncomfortable, he stayed well within her personal space.

“You have to…I need you to pull your pants down,” she said, still not looking up, but letting out a little nervous choking laugh.

“No,” he said, crossing his arms. “You do it for me.”

Without another word, she slipped her cold hand beneath the waistband of his pajama pants and pulled them down over hips, exposing the thick, flexed thigh. She gave off subtle clues, that Bane was quick to pick up on; the way her hand stayed on his hip, how she stood close, licking her bottom lip.  At least he knew she still wanted him.  Badly. 

She quickly realized that he wasn’t going to sit down or move to make it easier for her.  Instead he wanted to humiliate her, put her in her place.  So she simply knelt in front of him and jabbed the needle in, pumping the medicine into his blood stream.  When she tried to stand he pushed her back down with one hand, leaving it heavy on her shoulder.

“The door’s locked, darling.  Don’t you feel like playing with me?”

She capped the syringe and tossed it onto the dresser before sighing and folding her hands in her lap.  Of course he couldn’t help but notice she was still on her knees even after he let go.  He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up to find tears glittering in the corners of her eyes.

“What’s this girl?” He asked, wiping one of her cheeks with his thumb.  She relished the gentle touch, the now familiar scratch of his wristguard against her cheek.

“I know you don’t…you’re not in love with me.  I know this is all just…it’s just…”

“Fucking?” He felt her physically flinch beneath his hand, but still she nodded.

“But it’s ok,” she said, closing her hand over his, then pulling it away from her face to press her lips to his palm in supplication, to kiss the black fabric that covered it.  “It’s ok because you’ve given me more than anyone else ever has.  I just want you to know that.”

Bane knelt down in front of her and threaded his fingers through her hair to loosen it.

“I like your hair down.”

He kissed her, his lips soft but insistent, his thumbs rubbing against her temples as if to soothe her.  When he spoke he kept his lips against her mouth, so that his voice was barely above a whisper.

“You saved my life even though you were afraid,” he said between kisses. “You stood up to me when I threatened you.  You have a brilliant mind that freed me from a prison I’d been locked into for years.”  As he continued, his words and his touch warming her like rays of sunlight, he slid the robe down off of her shoulders and leaned in to nuzzle her neck. “It’s true.  Maybe I don’t love you yet, lamb. But I promise you that all of this is more than just fucking.”

As he covered her throat and the soft skin of her breasts with kisses she ran her hands over his smooth scalp, down the back of his neck.  He growled as her fingers played over his skin, holding him close as he sucked one of her hardened nipples between his teeth, tugging at it to make her gasp.  Still, her eyes were focused on the bedroom door.  They were no longer alone in the house.

“We have to stop,” she said, pushing him off of her chest.

He grinned at her, trying to push her onto her back.

“No we don’t.  Your brother has work to do.  He knows better than to listen at your door.  Especially if he knows I’m behind it.”

Unconvinced, Slaine stood, leaving Bane kneeling at her feet.

“He’s in the kitchen,” she said, looking down at him, her hand tickling the back of his neck.  She was nervous, but he saw the tiny upturn at the corner of her mouth.

He turned his eyes up to her and smiled, grabbing hold of her hips.

“I don’t care,” he said, pulling her forward.  He leaned in and kissed the hill of her hip bone, then the delicate crease of her thigh.  When she moaned in happy resignation he kissed her just above the dark tangle of hair between her legs. “Besides,” he whispered against her skin, “I told you earlier you were going to be shaved.”

He stood and pushed her onto the bed on her back.

“Lay still like a good girl and I’ll go get what I need,” he said before kissing her forehead and disappearing into the bathroom.

*********

Bane stood in front of the bathroom mirror trying to compose himself.  It still came as something of a shock to see his face bare, human.  Slaine had slipped a week or so ago and said she thought his goatee looked handsome so now he was letting it grow.  It itched.  Staring at the reflection of his own lips, the angle of his jaw, he was forced to remember Talia.  She used to tell him how beautiful his face was, _like Ajax, the golden warrior.  What a crime it is to have it hidden behind that steel and rubber_.  _But I love you no matter what you look like and I can’t bear to see you suffer_ she would say, helping him fasten the mask over his mouth.

Bane had never loved anyone in his life except Talia.  He hadn’t had the luxury of a mother or a father to show him love, to be an example.  Talia, even as a toddler, as a tiny girl crawling around the rocks in the pit, had taught him how to love, how to give everything for the safety and happiness of someone else, even at your own expense.  How many men had Bane killed to keep Talia safe?  How many nights had he gone without a minute of sleep to keep watch over her own dreaming? And he was sure that Talia had loved him, even to her last breath.  She saw the beating heart inside the machine.  She hadn’t been afraid of the beast inside him. 

And neither was Slaine.

He was weaker now of course, and still somewhat at her mercy, but still he had the ability to hurt her, even to kill her.  He could have forced himself on her, torn her apart, and still she knelt at his feet and thanked him.  She was different from Talia.  She was soft and demure, delicate, tentative.  And yet still whip smart, funny, inventive.  He took another, deeper breath and shook his head clear.

In one sense his plans for Slaine were right on schedule, but in another they were flying off the rails.  She was well under his skin now.  It was only supposed to be once or twice each month, at the right times, a calculated seduction.  He didn’t know what it would mean to her.  He hadn’t known she was a virgin.  That everything he did to her was her first.  He hadn’t known that it would make him… ravenous.  He had to keep telling himself to be careful.  For both of them.

**********

She was still on the bed, just as he’d left her, with her arms stretched long over her head, one leg bent, one dangling off the end of the bed.  Her eyes were closed, but when he came close she smiled and opened one eye, blushing instantly at the sight of his naked body, standing right in front of her.

“You look happy,” he said, putting down his supplies.

He lifted her foot and pressed his lips to the sole of it, the bone on the inside of her ankle, the back of her knee.  Then, propping both of her legs up and open he slid up her body to kiss her once again on the mouth, their bodies warm, touching at every possible point. 

“This is dangerous work, Lamb,” he said. “You have to lay still, perfectly still.  No wiggling, no giggling, no trying to distract me.  Do you understand?”

His voice was low and smooth, rumbling like distant thunder.  It made her insides quiver, but she nodded just the same.  He kissed her again and slid back down to the space between her legs, running his fingertips through the thick thatch of hair. 

“I want to shave you so I can get closer to your pussy,” he said.  “I want to see every part of you, all the time.”  He slipped his finger between her slick pink lips and drew upwards to circle her clit, making her whimper and squirm.  He rolled and pinched it between his fingers and she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.  “Whose cunt is this?” he asked, leaning in towards her face.  His fingers slipped deep inside her, his thumb slipping over the sensitive bud.  Her chest flushed pink, her breath came short. “Answer me, Lamb.”

If she closed her eyes she could hear the mask.  She could hear the monster.  And it didn’t frighten her.  It made her shiver. 

“You.  It’s yours.”

“Good girl,” he said, pulling his hand away and wiping his fingers off on her stomach, leaving her aching for a release he wouldn’t give her just yet.  Her heart pounded in her ears, her cheeks burning.  She tried to squeeze her thighs together but he held them open easily. 

“Lay still like I told you and I’ll let you come later,” he said, although already his dick was hard, already he wanted to see her writhing and screaming beneath him.  He wanted to watch her come harder than she’d ever imagined, he wanted to see her sweat…because of him.  But he could wait. 

Laying down between her legs he slicked the cool shaving lotion over her mound, reaching down between her thighs, moving quickly and lightly, making her hips buck forward toward his hand, silently begging for his touch.  He put his palm on her stomach to hold her still, looking up to give her a warning not to move again. 

“If you keep squirming I’m going to have to tie you up.  Not that you’d mind that, right little girl?”

“Right,” she breathed.  In fact, she reached up above her head and held tight to the slats of her wooden headboard in order to keep herself still.  He liked the way it lengthened her body, exposed her.

The first cold pull of the razor made her suck in a quick lungful of breath, holding it and freezing in position.  The air against her newly exposed skin felt exotic and she let her legs fall open further as he sheared off every inch of hair, stopping occasionally to tickle between her lips with the handle of the razor, dipping quickly inside then pulling away when she tried to push against it.

“My little lamb wants to come, doesn’t she?” He said, carefully cleaning up around the shining pink folds around her clit, covering it all with a cool washcloth then wiping it dry with long, slow strokes of a soft towel. She whimpered and moaned as he blew a cool stream of air over her newly shaven pussy then kissed it, his tongue sliding in to open her, to lap up the juices of her arousal. “Beautiful,” he said.

He reached up and pulled one of her arms free from the headboard, bringing her fingers down to let her touch herself.  The skin was sensitive and impossibly smooth, a new sensation under her fingertips, slippery warm, but still she pulled her hand away.

“I told you not to hide from me, Slaine.  Not anything.  Touch yourself, feel how wet you are for me.” He pulled her hand back down and watched as she slid her finger between the glistening folds, quickly adding a second finger to her slow rhythm.  After a moment he covered her hand with his own, slowing her pace, helping her along, all the while watching her reaction, how her eyelids fluttered, her mouth fallen open, her neck and spine twisting and arching like a serpent.  With a quiet cry she pulled his fingers inside along hers and pushed against him.

“Oh no, girl. Not yet.”

He didn’t want her to come like that, not alone, not with her hand.  And he didn’t want her on her back either.  He wanted her on her knees like an animal, the way he liked to fuck, so he could plunge deeper, so he could grab hold of her hair and wrench her backwards as she screamed.  So he took hold of her hips and easily flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her ass to the edge of the bed. 

“Show me that pretty little cunt, girl,” he said, stroking himself, his belly tight and hot with need.

She leaned forward on her elbows and kept her thighs apart, reached back between her legs and presented herself, pushing backwards, begging, her fingers slipping through her wetness as she waited.  He stepped closer and teased her with the head of his cock, just rubbing against her while she tried to buck backwards onto him.  Without warning he slapped her ass, hard, with his open palm as a warning to stay still.  Then, pulling all of her hair back in his fist he leaned forward to ask her,

“What is it you want, lamb?”

“Fuck. I want you to fuck me,” she breathed, once again pushing back against his hips.

“Louder,” he said, yanking her hair harder, pushing inside of her only an inch. “Say it louder.”

Frustrated, Slaine whimpered and bucked, trying to pull free of his hand in her hair, but she knew he’d bested her.  Now he wanted her humiliated.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said, her voice desperate and cracking.  Still he wasn’t satisfied.

“Louder, Slaine.  What do _you_ want, girl?” Then, leaning in to her ear, slipping further inside her he said, “I want him to hear you.”  She shook her head.  “Yes.  Don’t let him scare you anymore.  Do what you want in your own house.  Fuck who you want, whenever you want to.  Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me, Bane! Please!” she cried out, a high pitched wail that everyone, anywhere in the house could have heard. 

He slammed his full length into her heat and held tight to her hips, his thrusts fast and vicious.  The headboard slammed into the wall with every push forward and Slaine whined through her pleasure, the climax that had been building for nearly an hour finally close to its release.

Wrapping his hand around her throat, Bane pulled her up on her knees, her back against his chest for his final push, his other hand between her legs to trigger her.

“You’re all mine now, girl.  Every bit of you.”

They came at the same time, a shuddering climax, their bodies pressed together as they gasped for breath, Slaine’s hair damp with sweat, tightly wrapped around his hand.  If this was what it was to be owned, she didn’t mind at all.


	10. Chapter 10

Richard knocked on Slaine’s door to wake them.  There was no real urgent reason for it, he just felt like ruining their happy little honeymoon.

“Lopez is back from Gotham.  I’m going to check on the packing.”

She was tangled around Bane’s body like a vine, her head pressed against his chest, their legs and arms twisted together beneath the blankets as they slept.  He’d been sharing her bed for nearly a week and in that time they’d fallen into a comfortable routine. While she got herself caught up at the lab, Bane helped with the planning and preparation for their departure.  The four of them ate dinner together at night and then went their separate ways, Bane spending the evening reading, working on a laptop while Slaine went over her research notes.  For a few days she was happy.  For a few days, it was as if they were a family. 

After Richard woke them Bane carefully extricated himself from her arms and tucked her back under the covers.  Before leaving the room he watched her for a moment, the white sheets draped over her like a greek goddess, her hair fanned out over the pillow. All his life peaceful sleep had been a luxury.  Even when he shared a bed with a woman in the past, the girls that were sent to him, given as collateral or bargaining chips, he slept fitfully after their sex wondering if they were sent to kill him, to rip the tubes form his mask, twist a knife into his side.  But with Slaine pressed up against him, her fingers tracing his scar, he fell into delicious heavy darkness, like a deep warm ocean enveloping him.  There was no end to her usefulness.  She twisted and moaned, flipping onto her back, the sheet falling away to reveal her nakedness.  Hearing Richard and Lopez in the hallway he quickly covered her up again, laying his hand over her taut, flat stomach, his fingers splayed out like a starfish as if somehow he could will it to happen with his touch.

********

 “What is it you’re trying to do, Richard?  It seems that every time you open your mouth you’re attempting to undermine me.  It’s almost as if you want it all to fail, brother.”

The two of them stood in the front foyer while Lopez hauled boxes of supplies from the rooms upstairs.

“If she doesn’t know – brother, you have to tell her…now.  Because we need a plan for when she goes berserk.”

“She won’t go berserk, Richard, you’re over reaction.” Bane put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed…a bit too hard. “Or did you not hear her this afternoon,” he continued, leaning in closer, “when I was fucking her senseless.”

Richard shrugged him off and headed for the door. “The plan was to leave tomorrow Bane.  She needs to be in the truck, one way or the other.”

********

When she woke he was watching her, leaning against the dresser, his arms crossed over his chest.  Something about him was different, she thought.  It was the clothes, his battered black cargo pants and leather boots, the long sleeve thermal shirt.  He looked like the Bane of old.  Even his face was hard, blank almost; not the man she’d fallen asleep with.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking on the floor for her robe.

“We’re leaving in the morning, Slaine.”

Her heart dropped.  She felt hot and dizzy, almost like the worst symptoms of her withdrawal.  It wasn’t just heartbreak.  Most of it was anger.  Anger that she’d let herself believe him, that she thought for a moment he’d leave it all behind and stay with her, sleep in her bed, cook dinner in her kitchen,  that he’d be there to show her how to build a long burning fire.  She thought of a thousand things she wanted to say to him, about his selfishness, manipulation, lying.  Instead, all that came out was,

“You fucking prick.”

Bane flinched as if she’d punched him and she stood, the sheet like a long flowing gown trailing behind her.

“You knew you were leaving when you screwed me, when you gave me your word that this was all more than just sex.  She poked his healing chest with two fingers and he winced with pain.  It was satisfying.  “All you had to do was say you were horny.  Say you woke up with a hard on and wanted to fuck.  I still would have done it,” she hissed.  “That’s how fucking lonely I am.  I still would have fucked you but I wouldn’t have…I wouldn’t…”

He couldn’t bear it, the tears making her eyes shine, her nose turn red.  He hated the way her voice cracked with pain, so he grabbed her and pulled her in against his chest, his mouth near her ear as she struggled.

“You didn’t let me finish, Lamb.  I’m here to tell you that you’re going with me.”  He felt her muscles tense in his arms, her breath catch in her throat.

“Oh.” Her voice was quiet then.  She spoke slowly, as if soothing a wounded animal, knowing he wasn’t used to be rejected. “No Bane, I can’t.  This is my home.  And my work is here.  I…”

He pulled away to better look her in the eye and he appeared to her as a stranger, like the icy terrorist who’d threatened her life, like the dying monster of two months ago.

“It wasn’t a question, love. You’re going with us.  I need you with me, your brain, your body, your heart.  You work for me now.”

She shook her head and tried to break free of the iron grip he had on her arm.

“No.  I won’t go.  My work was never meant to be weaponized.  I never want my work to hurt people.”

“And it won’t.  But it could make me millions of dollars.  Money returned on my initial investment in you.  Besides girl, a minute ago you were ready to claw my eyes out for leaving you behind.  I don’t think **you** even know what you want.”

“It’s true.  I’ll be sad to see you go, Bane,” she said, her eyes lowered, unwilling to fall into his steely gaze. “But I can’t work for you.  I’ve always worked for myself.  I can’t leave the mountain.  My life is here.  It’s that simple. So this discussion is over.”

He let her go and reached for something behind his back.

“I’m afraid you’re right about one part of that, love.”

Without warning he spun Slaine around and pinned both of her wrists behind her back pushing her face down on to the bed.  He’d had cuffs behind him waiting on the dresser.  He knew she would fight him.  She squirmed and begged under his grip, only screaming when she felt the cold metal clicking shut against her skin.  He closed his hand over her mouth, his knee pressed into the small of her back.

“Shhhhh.  You’re making it so much more difficult.” He tied a length of rope tight around her elbows and cuffed her ankles together while she cried.

“Please don’t do this. Please.  You’re hurting me.”

He flipped her onto her back and held her face tight in his hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Lamb, but understand I need you to be on that truck tomorrow.  And this screaming isn’t going to do anything.  Who’s going to help you?”  There was a hint of something sinister behind his words, but she couldn’t imagine that he would want to scare her like that.

When he was sure that her arms and legs were secure he kissed her on the mouth, attempting to soothe her, to be gentle, but she quickly jerked her head away from his lips.

“Please let me go.  Please.”

Her eyes went wide as he pulled a syringe from his pocket.  Even bound and cuffed she tried to fight, thrashing and bucking against him.

“Please.  Bane, please,” she said as he knelt on her thighs, one hand on her throat to hold her still.  She began to weaken, exhausted, unable to breathe.  He pulled the cap of the syringe off with his teeth. “I gave you…I gave myself to you.  I gave you everything.”

He couldn’t answer, could barely look her in the eye as he stuck the needle deep into her neck, making her scream again.  As she drifted away from him he sat beside her, pulling her into his arms.

“You’re hurting me,” she said again, her voice soft and dreamy.  And as her eyes fluttered shut and Bane stroked her hair she tried it again, but only managed to say “You’re hurting…”

Before she was out.


	11. Chapter 11

She came to slowly, her stomach lurching with nausea as she rocked and bumped back and forth.  Blinking awake she felt cold, her muscles stiff and awkwardly bent.  Trying to shift position reminded her that she was cuffed and tied, trying to scream reminded her that her mouth was taped shut.  But he was there with her.  She was in the back of a speeding truck with tinted windows, her head resting in Bane’s lap as Richard drove.  He’d put her back in her white cotton nightgown at least, but still her skin was covered in goosebumps.

“Don’t struggle against the cuffs, you’re going to hurt yourself, love,” Bane whispered, stroking the back of her hair.  She turned her head and looked up at him, her eyes fiery with anger, wet with tears.  He gave her a small smile, just the same as if they were waking up in her bed, ready to shuffle out to make coffee. “We’re going somewhere safer for us.”

Staring into his eyes she could see that he was upset, he didn’t like keeping her like this.  He didn’t want her uncomfortable, it was simply his instinct to use force, to restrain, to dominate.  Her brow furrowed as a cold sweat prickled her forehead and she realized she was going to vomit.  Whatever he’d given her to knock her out wasn’t working well with riding through the mountains in the backseat of a truck.  She whined and thrashed trying to get him to understand but it wasn’t until her stomach started seizing that he pulled the tape from her mouth and lifted her up to a sitting position.  She could finally see who was driving. 

“I’m going to puke.  You’d better pull over, big brother.” she said, feeling the ache in her jaw, her mouth watering.

Richard caught Bane’s eye in the rearview mirror and he nodded, giving the go ahead to pull to the side of the road. 

He held her by the waist while she was sick in the weeds on the side of the twisting road, the icy snow and gravel digging in to her bare feet, the metal cuffs digging into the soft skin of her wrists as her body heaved.  Not only did she get easily car sick but she had a sensitive stomach.  If nausea was ever a side effect, she got it.  At this point there were too many reasons for her sickness to count.

“I’m sorry, lamb,” he said, stroking her hair.

She jerked away from his touch, glaring at the man that had been buried inside her just hours before, the man who had spent a week screwing her into euphoria, holding her while she slept, teaching her how to please him, keeping her warm at night.

“Don’t. fucking. Call me that,” she said, struggling to stand up to him, but her cuffed ankles made her balance shit and the wind whipped up and under her nightgown making her shiver.  She glanced into the front seat of the truck where Richard was deeply ensconced in something on his phone, ignoring her.

Was this why he’d warned her?  Why he’d been so angry to discover she’d slept with Bane?  What else did he know that he was keeping from her.  Had this been the plan all this time?  For months?

Bane pulled her up and put her back into the truck, covering her mouth tight with his hand when she screamed into the nothingness around them for help.  She could taste the fabric of his wrist guard on her tongue.

“Don’t make me tape you again, love.  Just calm down, no one’s going to harm you.  Once we get there, everything will be explained.  Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you,” she spat, turning to look out the window as the truck pulled back onto the road.  “I hate you.”

“I want to believe you, darling but that you were moaning my name in your sleep,” he said.  She could hear the crooked smile on his face.  His little victory joke.  She did hate him.  But her heart hadn’t had time to catch up yet.

“What about your medication?  You’ll be sorry when you…”

“We got all of the medication from the closet and more from your lab.  All kinds of things from the lab.  It was a treasure trove, really.  I know how to inject myself, girl, I’ve been hooked on more drugs than you can imagine, so try again with your little tantrum.”  His voice was light, almost amused with her defiance.

His hand crept over the seat and he hooked one finger in over one of her bound thumbs as a peace offering.  A tear slid down her cheek and she shrugged her arm away.  It was going to be a long, silent ride.  He sighed and she kept her focus on the trees and lakes blurring past her view as they made their way out of the mountains.  She was still drowsy, dizzy, sick to her stomach and part of her wanted to give up and go back to the black unconsciousness.  Instead, she rested her forehead on the cold glass.

Without warning Bane grabbed her elbow and pulled her roughly down onto her back, her head in his lap, facing up into his.  He was frowning.

“You don’t hate me.  I know that,” he whispered to her.  His hand slid up under her gown and between her legs, one finger teasing her clit.  She bucked and thrashed against his hand but he just shook his head at her, continuing to slip his thick finger between the warm folds of her sex.

“What are you…”  he clamped his hand over her mouth before she could finish.  She wanted to glare at him, but instead she felt tears stinging her eyes.  Why was he doing this? 

“Shhh…” he said, stroking her slowly, feeling her grow wetter with each pass of his finger.  He looked down at her and smiled.  “I know how to take care of you, girl.  You can trust me to take care of you.”

Still she squirmed and twisted under his grip, but now she was aching for him, everything inside of her conflicted and confused.  She wanted it to be like it was before.  He took his hand off of her mouth and drove two fingers up inside her, pulling forward and thrusting slowly.  Slaine gasped and he put one finger to her lips and shot a glance to Richard, all the while, his thumb pressing against her clit, circling it while his fingers worked inside her.

“Whose pussy is this?” He asked, leaning down close to her face.

She shook her head at him, unwilling to submit and he instantly took his hand away, licking his fingers clean.

“You’re scaring me.”

“You like me to scare you,” he said, smiling down at her.  “It thrills you.  The way your heart pumps, your cheeks flush…it’s just like a good fucking.  Besides, if I wanted you to fear me, you wouldn’t be talking, trust me, little girl.” He brushed the hair from her face.

“You can’t just take me from my home, there are things that I need…where’s my dog?”

“Lopez has Marcus,” he said, slowly resuming his work beneath her gown, his voice once again lowering to a whisper. “And I have everything else you need.”

She gasped and arched her back as he continued to stroke her towards climax.  She clenched her thigh muscles around his hand and bucked against it.  The drug in her system, the adrenaline in her blood was making her arousal come easily.  She was still disoriented and her thoughts were cloudy, open to suggestion.

“Do you want to come little Lamb?”

She couldn’t speak.  No, she didn’t want to come, she wanted to be stronger than that.  She wanted to say no to him.  She wanted to be the woman she was two weeks ago, able to stand up to his clever words, to pull away from his touch.  Instead she nodded. 

He leant in closer, his lips nearly touching her ear, but his eyes looking up, towards the driver of the truck.

“Then tell me whose pussy this is,” he said, pumping his fingers harder, deeper inside, feeling the walls of her core starting their spasms. “And I’ll know that you trust me.”

“It’s yours.  I’m yours…I trust…” her orgasm took over. She could no longer speak.  But she bit into her lip to keep from crying out and he covered her mouth with his hand to muffle her whimpering as the climax faded.

“I know you do Lamb.  I know.”

He pulled his hand from her and straightened her gown, glancing out the window and stroking her thigh as she quickly fell back to sleep.

******

When she woke up again they were still in the back of the truck, the sun low in the sky, casting a golden light on them both.

“Welcome back,” Bane said, ticking away on a silver laptop, not turning his eyes to her.  On the screen were blueprints, a crowded map of streets, a photograph of what looked like a stone fortress in the middle of a lake. “Are you going to be sick again, love?”

“No,” she answered, staring out at the flat, snow covered landscape.  Instead of fields and trees, it was a blur of gray and black, the angles and planes of buildings, crisscrossed power lines and street lights.  They drove past a sign – CHICAGO 26.

“I do have to thank you Slaine, for ridding me of that mask for good.  Now I blend in quite easily.  Walked right into a convenience store and bought this for you.”

He put a cool bottle of water against her leg, his pinky lingering on her thigh.

“Are we going to be there soon?” She asked, keeping her voice calm, loud enough for her brother to hear.

“An hour or so,” Richard said, catching her gaze in the rearview.  The lids of his eyes were heavy with exhaustion. “Go back to sleep,” he said.  There was something behind the words, a warning, begging. 

“Hell no.  I want to know where I’m going.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt the deep burning ache of the needle in her neck.

“That’s just it, darling.  Where we’re going is the one thing we DON’T want you to know.”

****

She woke up in bed, a sprawling, downy soft bed with fluffed pillows and a thick comforter in a dimly room. 

“BANE!”

Her voice echoed off the walls but no one answered.  The bed was tall with an elaborate, dark wood headboard and four posters holding up a gauzy white canopy that draped all the way to the floor on three sides, enclosing her in a cocoon.  Sitting up she realized she was no longer bound, her ankles and wrists uncuffed.  On her left arm was a thick, heavy metal cuff, three inches thick and tight enough that it bit painfully into her skin when she bent her wrist.  It had a small black panel on it with four tiny red lights. Two of the lights were on, the third flickering.  When she flipped her forearm she saw that it was intended to be permanent, soldered together, no latches, no lock.  On the white skin around the bracelet was a small scattering of angry pink blisters, tender to the touch.  She’d been burned while they did it.  Had he done it?  Burned her?  A tiny voice in her head told her he wouldn’t be that careless.

She pulled back the curtain, revealing a room painted black, filled floor to ceiling with metal shelving.  On the floor was a lamp with no shade, the bulb protected by a wire cage.  There was a couch, a desk, a vanity table and two rolled up carpets.  The shelves were empty but for a couple of cardboard boxes reading “CLOCKS”, “ARTWORK” and “BOOKS”.  In the far corner a fake oak tree took root, its branches full of bright autumn leaves that reached out over the canopy of the bed.  No windows, and the door, of course, was locked.

“Bane!” She screamed, pounding on the door. “Richard! Where’s my dog? Marcus! Open this door!”

Pressing her ear to the door, she heard the murmur of voices.  After a moment they fell silent and she heard only footsteps as all four of the lights on her cuff lit up.  The locks on the door clicked around and then he stood before her all in black.  Heavy leather boots, black cargo pants, a black leather jacket – every time she saw him he looked more like the old Bane…except for his face.  His face was soft, even smiling.  Marcus sat obediently at his feet, itched his ear with his back foot and then trotted off to sniff around the room.

“Sleeping Beauty awakes,” he said, holding her by the shoulders and kissing her on the forehead.  She wanted to slap him, to punch him in the gut, but even as she imagined attacking him, his kiss warmed her from the inside.  “Do you like it?” He asked, holding is arm out as if they were beholding some majestic mountain vista. 

“What is this?” she asked, holding out her wrist.

He took her hand in his and ran his fingers over the glowing red lights.

“I don’t want to keep you tied up, or locked in like a prisoner here,” he said, tracing the veins in her forearm.  The gentle touch was hypnotic.  “But I can’t have you running away from me either, little lamb.”

“So you’re tracking me?”

“If all four of these lights are off, you’re too far away from me, and it will be remedied,” he said, revealing the black case clipped to his hip with the same four lights glowing the same red signal. “Once we’re settled in you’ll be free to walk the compound.  I’ve brought everything you need.  We’re even building a new lab for you.”

He looked so proud of himself, his arms crossed over his broad chest, but she still wasn’t completely sold. 

“Do you want me here for a reason?  Am I part of your evil scheme?”

He smiled and pulled her against his chest, nearly hiding her completely in his arms.  She’d almost forgotten what it was like, how safe and small and concealed she felt with him.  Tipping her chin up, he bent down to kiss her, pushing her lips open, teasing her tongue with his.  It wasn’t overly passionate or sexual.  It was a kiss of reassurance, to remind her of what they’d had just two days before.  But it only lasted a moment before he pulled away.

“You’re here, lamb, because I want you.  You keep me…even.  You keep me warm.  I feel strong.  I feel better when I’m with you.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her face.  “Get changed and we’ll go for a walk.  I’ll get you some tea, something to eat.  Then perhaps we can come back to bed.”

Like clockwork, the thought of being in bed with him sent a frisson of arousal down her spine and between her legs.  She smiled at him, willing to at least hear him out, to see what he’d done, what he planned to do.  Like he said, who was going to come to her rescue anyway?  Bane flopped onto the old couch and she walked over to the small suitcase he’d packed for her – yoga pants and tank tops, lacy panties and bras, tight fitting sweaters – a man’s packing.

“We can get you anything else that you need, love,” he said, scrolling through something on his phone.  “You only have to ask.”

“Where are my pills?”

“Your what?” He asked, his brow furrowed.

“My birth control pills.”

He put the phone away and stood, pulling her towards the door by the elbow, whistling at the dog to follow.

“You don’t need them here,” he said, walking her down the dark, narrow hallway outside their bedroom.

“Don’t need….what? Why not?”

“Because,” he said, his voice lilting with confidence, his smile wide as he placed the palm of his hand on the flat of her belly, “that’s the other reason I brought you here.” 


	12. Chapter 12

“No!” she said, very nearly laughing in her defiance.  He had to have lost his mind to think she would just go along with this ‘plan’.  “You can’t just trap me here and force…”

“Keep your voice down, Lamb,” he said.  And although his voice was firm, his eyes and smile were still soft and calm knowing it wouldn’t take much to bring her to heel.  They stood apart from each other in the narrow hallway, the only light coming from a room at the far end.   She could see the shadows of other people…workers making their way around the compound.

“And no I will not keep my voice down!” She yelled, her anger at everything he’d put her through in the past couple of days finally bubbling to the surface.  “I don’t want this anymore— or you anymore…”

“Slaine,” he said, taking a step closer.

“Don’t touch me. I’m done with all of this.  I repaid my debt to you.  I saved your life.  Take this fucking cuff off of me and let me…”

In a second he had her spun around, her cheek pressed to the cold wall, her arms pinned painfully behind her back, every ounce of his weight heavy against her until she could barely breathe.  His hand covered her mouth, his lips close to her ear.

“Sweetheart, please don’t fool yourself into believing that your cunt is so magnificent that you’ve weakened me with it.  I asked you to keep your voice down.  If you don’t I’ll drag you back to our bedroom by your hair and find a way to force your silence.  Do you understand me?”

She went still beneath his grip, her eyes straining to meet his, to try and connect with him, to calm him.  Because she heard the monster in his voice.  She could hear the mask.

“If I let go of you, lamb, will you be a good girl for me?”

Her movements were slow but she nodded, her eyes still wide, focused on him.  He took his hand from her mouth but stayed there, pressed against her back, watching her suck in deep gasps of air.

“Relax,” he said, kissing the skin just behind her ear. “It’s not as if I mean to have you giving birth tomorrow.  I’m just thinking of the future."  He pulled away from her and turned her so her back was against the wall, so he could look her in the eye.  With one hand he held her face still, his fingers tight against her jaw.  "You should be careful with your orders, girl.  You keep telling me not to touch you anymore and if you’re not careful I won’t.  I can get my pussy anywhere.  You’re just lucky I want yours most.  After all,” he said, flicking his tongue against her throat. “You made me handsome again, sweetheart.”

*****

In the northern suburbs outside Chicago were the ivy covered buildings of a defunct university, set back in the trees at the end of a narrow cobblestone road, hidden from the view of the oblivious commuters speeding past on the expressway.  Bane had picked the building that once housed the theatre. There were few windows and huge rooms filled with abandoned wiring and equipment.  The stage itself could be used for construction and strategy.  And while he had selected the massive props room to be their master suite, he had put three men to work cleaning out the set shop, putting together a laboratory for Slaine and a team of scientists that she could direct at her will.  He held her by the elbow as they toured the building, her cuff beeping twice every time they entered a new room. 

“What are you planning?” she asked, her eyes wide at the new team of “revolutionaries” he’d managed to amass from a hospital bed in her home hundreds of miles away.  Lopez, who’d helped guard the house in the mountains, nodded at her as he walked by, an MP7 strapped to his back. “I thought you were no longer into mass casualty violence?”

Bane looked down at her with an eyebrow raised and a smug, crooked smile.  “They’re here to protect you and your work, Lamb.  Don’t worry yourself.”

Richard, who she hadn’t seen seen she’d been drugged in the back of a car, appeared out of nowhere.

“Good to see you up, little sister,” he said, his face blank.  He looked down at the cuff on her wrist and she watched his lips stretch into a tight line.  “Enjoying your stay yet?”

“Not really, no,” she answered, Bane’s grip tightening on her elbow.

Richard looked at Bane and handed him an iPad with some schematics that she couldn’t translate, particularly as he held it away from her view.  Bane nodded and handed them back without a word.

“We’re going back to the suite,” he said. “I’m unavailable until tomorrow.”

Richard looked down at her, up at him and nodded. “Whatever you say, brother.”

******

Once back in their room, Slaine wrenched her arm out of his grip and stormed over to the overstuffed couch set beneath the fake tree in the corner. 

“You’re angry with me,” he said, sifting through boxes, pulling out books and notebooks, battered files, barely looking at her.

“No shit.”

Pleased with what he’d found, he went over to a desk and flicked on a light, propping his booted feet up on and pulling his shirt off over his head to relax as he read.  She watched him rub his hand over his scalp, a habit she’d noticed he had when he was concentrating.  These were the things she’d be noticing about him, getting to know who he was.  For a few minutes she just stared at his back, the scar running down the middle, the muscles in his shoulders, the light reflecting gold off his skin.  She didn’t want to be angry with him.  She didn’t want any of this to be happening.  She wanted to be sitting in a couch in her living room.  She wanted to be in bed with him.

“Is there a question you have for me Lamb?”

“No.”

“Then why are you staring at me?”

“What, you feel my eyes burning into your back?”

“No, there’s a mirror leaning against the wall in front of me.”

“I could have worked for you, helped you from my home.  You didn’t have to do this.  You could have just asked me.  You could have talked to me instead of trussing me up and dragging me across the country.”

He sighed and put the papers down before coming to pull her up from the couch.  He held her face in his hands, his fingers threaded through her hair.

“You’re too stubborn to talk to Slaine.  You come up with reasons to shut down, to hide, to say no, to say you can’t.  I don’t handle rejection, and I needed you to come with me.  That house has nothing for you anymore Slaine.  It’s time for you to stand up and do something with your talent.  For me.”

She softened a bit at his words, knowing that anger, fighting would get her nowhere.  He had a hold on her that she couldn’t shake.  Even now, the way he was looking at her, the way he stood so close to her, his thumb brushing over her jawbone, put her in a trance.  She sighed and lowered her eyes and he kissed the crown of her head.  The cuff on her wrist may as well have been a collar.

“Besides,” he said, tipping her face up to kiss her lips. “Trussing you up was so much fun.”

*****

Bane came back from the shower room with a towel slung low on his hips. He was freshly shaven but for the neatly shaped goatee and moustache, his chest and arms still glistening with droplets of warm water.  And even though Slaine found her eyes drawn to his wet body, the lean muscles in his forearms, the rippled stomach, the broad back, she made herself look away, tucking herself into the far corner of their shared bed, still feeling angry and betrayed that he’d dragged her here.  Drugged her.  Her lust for him burned red hot, but now she was also afraid.  Her dreams of him having changed and become a knight in shining armor were long shattered.  But she’d be a fool to try and convince anyone that the aura of darkness didn’t draw her in.  Even so, she’d spent the first three nights sleeping on the couch, keeping herself away from him on purpose, turning down his attempts at polite seduction.  But it was clear now that he was tired of her insolence.

“Come here, kitten,” he said, locking the suite door.  “Take off your nightgown and let me look at you.”

She didn’t move, keeping her knees hugged up to her chest, watching him with wide eyes.  He frowned and stalked towards the bed, letting the towel fall, revealing every inch of his hard body.  She turned her face away to avoid temptation.

“Not listening to me anymore I see,” he said. “This is quite an act you’ve got going, pretending you don’t want to fuck me anymore.”

“I’m not pretending,” she said, but it came out much softer than she’d intended. 

He crawled across the king sized bed and pulled at her ankle, stretching her leg straight and pulling her whole body beneath him, his thighs between hers, forcing them apart, his forearms pressing her wrists into the mattress. 

“What was that?” He asked, turning his ear to her lips, his hand roaming down between her legs, pushing aside the thin fabric of her panties while she squirmed in his grip. “Say it again for me, love, I didn’t hear you.”

Slaine pushed against his chest and turned away from him, but he knew her body too well by now, he knew right where to stroke her, to kiss, the exact rhythm and pressure she needed to respond.  She was already wet and his fingers slipped easily inside her, making her blush.

“I don’t like it when you lie to me, princess,” he said, sucking his fingers clean.

“I don’t like it when you drug me and kidnap me.  I don’t like it when you solder a tracking device to my wrist.  I don’t like…”

He closed his mouth over hers, kissing her while the full weight of his warm, damp body pressed down hard onto hers, squeezing the air from her lungs, his hardened prick trapped against her belly.  His fingers ran through her hair as his kiss grew deeper.  He didn’t stop until he heard her whimper beneath his lips, until he felt her tongue twisting with his, her own mouth pushing back.

“I’m sorry Slaine.  I’ve already apologized but I mean it.  I’m sorry.  But we’re here now.  We’re still together.  You and Richard and Marcus are safe, your research is safe.” He shifted his weight so that he was positioned between her thighs, the head of his cock teasing her.  His lips grazed her jaw bone, the skin of her throat and whispered in her ear, “and I know you still want me.”

He pushed forward slowly and her mouth fell open, a quiet gasp escaping at the feeling of him stretching her, filling her.  Without thinking she bucked her hips up against him, bending her knees to allow him further entrance.

“Don’t you, my naughty, dirty girl?”

“I do,” she said, closing her eyes. “I do still want you.”

He thrust into her with his full length and Slaine groaned with ecstasy.  In that moment, he knew all was forgiven.

**********

For a long time their life was a routine.  They spent the nights together locked in their suite and during the day he would leave her with a kiss on the forehead or her shoulder and she would spend the day with Marcus, either walking inside the compound, checking on the progress of her lab, or reading and doing research in the bedroom.  She avoided Richard, still bitter at the part he played in abducting her, keeping her prisoner.  And although she filled her days with science and fact, in the quiet times her mind kept wandering to what Bane wanted from her. 

She’d never planned on having a child.  And even if she did, she couldn’t imagine it growing up running from city to city, locked in rooms, speeding in the back of trucks, making escapes, never having roots.  Her own childhood had been unstable enough and that was in one house, the landscape never changing.  How could it be anything less than disastrous living on the run with a narcissistic mercenary and his crew of maniacs?

The lights on her cuff blinked - all four - and she knew he was coming back to the suite.  He’d only been gone an hour our two, she hadn’t even gone to the shower room, was still sitting on the couch with her pajamas on drinking coffee.

“Good morning Lazybones,” he said. 

The dog met him at the door and he crouched down to pet him, the two beasts wrestling to the floor, Bane eventually letting out a low, infectious laugh as the dog pinned him and licked his face.  It was one of those things that Slaine realized was a rare treasure, like his big toothy smiles, or just seeing him relaxed and…normal, the man he might have been.  She smiled as he pulled himself up and walked over to where she sat, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at her.  She wondered for a moment if he could be ticklish.

“Can I help you?” she asked, looking up from her notes from the previous day’s research.

He’d told her in the beginning that he wanted to make sure that there was no way to alter her new pain medication, that addicts and recreational users couldn’t break through the limited bioavailability or change the administration and turn it into the next street drug.  So far she was fairly confident.  The bioavailability didn’t change when it was smoked or insufflated or even when it was dissolved and injected.  These things changed the time release mechanism, but there was still a ceiling effect, limiting the ‘high’ one could get, and so far it was solid.

“I have a present for you, princess.  Care to go for a walk?” He posed it as a question but leant down to grab her elbow and pull her to standing.

“Can I at least change?” She asked, pulling her hair up into a knot and securing it with two pins that she kept fastened to her robe. “I’m still in my pajamas.”

“I like you in your pajamas,” he said, "I like you out of your pajamas even more.” His grin was beautiful and wicked as he pulled her close and kissed her.  “No one’s going to give you any grief anyway.”

He was right.  The men barely even looked at Slaine.  If they addressed her at all, they called her doctor.  The first week they were there a man had called her baby and slapped her ass and no one had heard from him since.  It was quite clear she was off limits.

“Fine,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “Let’s go.”

Spring had come while they were holed up in the compound and it felt good to walk through the dewy grass in the sunshine.  Once they were outside, Bane reached down and laced his fingers into hers.  While they walked his thumb brushed over the back of her hand.

“I know you’ve been waiting a long time, and you’ve been getting stir crazy and bored, feeling like a prisoner,” he said, looking out over the grounds.  “And I know that I’ve worried you with my ‘plans’ for you, my plans for us and for everything, but I just want you to trust me.” He squeezed her hand when he said it and she smiled to herself. “Trust that I can take care of you, and you’ll get everything I promised.  That’s what I brought you over here to show you.” 

His voice was quiet and tentative as he gave his speech, and she knew that he’d been thinking about it for a while, wondering what to say to her, nervous.  There was no way he could know how much she adored seeing that kind vulnerability. She stopped walking and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him gently, holding him close.

“I…trust you, Bane.  I do.”

He pulled away and smiled and Slaine bit her lip, taking a deep breath to steady herself. 

She’d almost said ‘I love you.’

**Author's Note:**

> These chapters will be broken up a bit differently from how they were on my tumblr, just because sometimes those posts can seem choppy and short.


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